


Leashed Darkness (Rewrite)

by Schingiuire



Category: Hellsing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 14:15:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13615080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schingiuire/pseuds/Schingiuire
Summary: Dracula's fight to keep his identity after he is captured. Abraham's fight to enslave his captured enemy and bend it to his will.





	1. Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of the characters within this story. This is a really old work from several years ago that was a rewrite of an even older work from many many years ago. This story is in permanent hiatus. However, I am re-posting it here to share in case anyone actually liked it.

Year: 1893

“To break a man, one must first determine how far he must fall. The further the distance, the greater the effort.” ~ Schingiuire

How could these mere humans best him? Surly it all had been just a dream, a nightmare rising from the depths of his mind to torment the peaceful rest of the dead. But the short period of wakefulness before the lid of his coffin was wrenched open and a blurred face come into view made him question the reality of his situation. The image was soon followed by a crushing, burning pressure shifting in his chest and he was snapped back into the present. No, this was no dream from which he would awaken. He had been bested. These men, no, this man had hunted and staked him. And yet, he was alive, at least in a midian's sense of the word.

The pain in his chest increased, as if his heart were being ripped in two. Previously he had thought himself unable to speak, but a gurgling cry rose in his throat, exploding through thin, dry lips with a shower of precious blood droplets. His ears thought the sound an animal's scream somewhere in the muffled distance. But the sand paper of his throat told him it was none other but his own.

“So you are still with us,” a cold voice commented above. “You have been so still the past few days I was beginning to worry I would be hauling a box of dust back to England.” There was mirth in the voice, almost on par with a victorious child chiding the losers of his game.

Dracula tried to focus upon the blurred image above him, but his eyes were dry. They had been left open while he slept. The membrane was cracked and refused to work the image into anything recognizable.

“England?” his raw throat managed to form. The words sounded so very wrong to his ears. They could hardly have been formed from the lips of so grand a beast as himself. The pain in his chest fell to a constant ache. How could this have happened? His plans had been so carefully thought out.

A cool feeling ran from the corner of his mouth to trail down the side of his cheek. Blood. He was still bleeding, but that was right. The stake was still buried deep into his chest, interrupting any healing process his body might have sustained. Blood was the key, and now he could feel it coating his body. His face was masked in it, clothes soaked but now hard from the liquid having dried. How long had it been? The questions fled like cockroaches from light as the cool, even voice spoke in answer.

“Yes, England. You are not quite gone yet, Count. It is very well within my grasp, out here in the ocean while you are helpless. I could nail this box of yours shut and dump you into the water to forever be forgotten. A complete death is too kind for you, it is what you wish and hope for. I will not be the one to give you that. However, this conversation is better left for another time. You will find out all you need to know when we land and get you situated.”

The pressure in his chest blossomed again. His right arm jerked instinctively, the left following it, dragged by a weight he had not felt previously. Long, emaciated fingers wrapped around the stake in his chest, a strangled cry breaking off into a wheezing gurgle as the figure above stood up, or so he assumed as it became significantly smaller. 

“Enjoy the last of the trip, Count. We should be reaching port in another day or two.”

OoOoO

Abraham stepped from the bowels of the ship into the salty air that blew across the deck. His mind swarmed with thoughts of preparation. He would need a place to hold the creature indefinitely, and a way to keep it fed. Then he would need back up plans to provide security in the event that the beast managed to escape the aforementioned holding place. For this entire venture being something of a spontaneous move, there was quite a bit of planning to do.

The thought of capturing Dracula had entered his mind some months ago. 'We must either kill it or capture it.' Those had been his words, the words to his fellows. True, Dracula was within the grasp of death, a true death, but a nagging thought had entered his mind at the moment the vampire began to slip away from this world. Dracula was the king, and perhaps the most powerful of the vampires. To kill him would be a waste of such talent and ability. Having this monster in his control would mean a great amount of cards in his hand against the abominations of the undead. And this famed king, butcher, devil, whatever label that would be attached to him, he would repay humanity for his sins. And not only this, but Dracula was a demon, a true Earth bound demon. Hell was its home. He could not repent there, and could surely find a way to return and seek his revenge.

The only problem with it all was Dracula himself. Such a monster would not allow himself to be controlled. It was the equivalent of taking a rabid, wild wolf into his household and attempting to make a lapdog out of it. Managing to control the monster would be a feat in and of itself. Abraham moved across the deck, watching the sun rise upon the far horizon. He slid his hands into his pockets as he stood at one of the rails, his mind musing on any number of ways that he could dominate his new capture.

At that moment, the only idea that seemed probable was to break Dracula. Fully assert himself over the vampire as the master. Abraham leaned against the rail, draping his arms over the top as he gazed down into the water. Dracula would not break easy. A small smile began to slowly creep over the man's face. No, the vampire would not break easy, and he would relish every second of it.

The smile faded as he thought of his fellows: Quincy, Harker, Holmwood, and Seward. The four brave men who had followed him into the lair of the beast. After freeing Mina from the Count's hold, he had bid Harker to stay behind and care for his soon to be wife. Quincy had been left behind at the docks in Europe to guard against the vampire doubling back and returning to England. Holmwood and Seward were left among the villagers to rally them against the vampire king's gypsies and servants. They lead the charge to the castle and incited the villagers to set it aflame. His move was the final checkmate; capturing the king while he fled.

He had told the men that Dracula could not be killed, that the dark prince still lived on even after his head had been separated. It was a lie of course, as he was not even quite sure if such tactics would work, but he had to convince them to let him keep the beast, to convince them that only he had the knowledge to keep Dracula caged away forever. For Dracula would repent.

Those brave men had taken a separate ship back to England.

OoOoO

“Be careful with that,” Abraham's voice rang out over the commotion of the docks. “I want it tied securely to the top of the carriage,” he commanded the driver and the two men hauling the rather large, cloth wrapped box from the ship and to his carriage.

Abraham stood tall and straight, a man of obvious dignity and one whose eyes it seemed could peer into the soul of lesser men. They were a cold, clear blue, gazing out of a face just beginning to show it's age. But even as a man of his late thirties, Abraham Helsing was remarkably fit, his choice of life paths demanded he be so. Standing at five feet, ten inches he looked evenly at most men. Lean yet broad shouldered, his body possessed the physical prowess of a hunting cat. His short, blonde hair was slicked back and neatly cut, a few stray strands swaying about in the wind as he observed the men tie the box to the top of the carriage.

A slight scruff along his jaw-line suggested that he had not shaved in a few days. He had been careful on the ship, distrusting of his hand's steadiness paired with the rocking of the ship. And to be bleeding was the last thing he needed with his precious cargo. The only other glaring mar upon his person was a long scar over his left eye. It ran from just above his eyebrow, over the socket, to just a bit over his cheek. To anyone who asked, it was the poor luck of buying an ill-tempered horse. To the very few who truly knew he was more than a simple doctor, it was the poor luck of having a vampire catching him off guard. But that incident had happened some years ago, when he was only just beginning to learn about the midians and their ways.

Abraham shook himself out of his thoughts. The operation of relocating Dracula was a delicate one and he need not loose himself in his musings before all was settled. He moved around the carriage, checking the ties to make sure no unwanted bump would send the vampire to the ground. While it was securely staked, there was not much of a threat. But Abraham was unwilling to take any chances that the creature would get free.

He climbed into the carriage, settling himself against the seat and closing his eyes as he rode, still going over last minute planning on how to settle the creature into it's new surroundings. Dracula would be very weak initially. This would aid in moving him around. A simple room in the lowers should suffice for his holdings, there were several old prison cells which had been used by the previous owner. He had yet to find out their exact use, but had decided not to ask too many questions.

A system of chains and pulleys would be required as well. He needed a way to hold the vampire still when needed, and to also allow him a bit of movement. Abraham went over all of this with himself as the carriage traveled the distance to his manor home. He had only recently purchased the building after deciding to move to England. If Dracula ever managed to get free, there was only limited land he could travel, much unlike Europe.

The ride to his home was rather uneventful, there was not many who lived this far from London. The arrival at his home was even more uneventful, as he had yet to hire any staff to care for the three story mansion. Abraham counted out the payment for the driver and watched the man leave. He looked down to his assembled luggage stacked over the top of the large box as he walked into the main hall of the manor. A smirk trailed itself across the side of his face.

“Welcome home, Count,” he mused to the box. It was eerily quiet on the estate and Abraham made a mental note to himself to travel into London the next day to hire staff, as well as to find a few men who could help him with converting one of the lower cells into one that would contain Dracula.

Abraham turned and closed the double doors, the solid thud of their closing felt almost as if a final step had been taken, one he could never turn back from. Slipping a hand into his coat, Abraham withdrew his pipe and seated himself atop the coffin with his bags, crossing his legs and sprinkling a few tobacco leaves from a tin container into the pipe. Replacing the container into his pocket, he used a match to light it, puffing on the end of the pipe then leaned back, patting the box with his free hand.

“We will have you settled in a few hours. Rest assured, vampire,” he stated, placing one hand atop the smooth wood and patting it as if petting a dog. Abraham seemed to be talking to himself more than the unconscious vampire who lay staked within the box.

OoOoO

Dracula stirred from his sleep, eyes blinking open. He shifted to the side, trying to take stock of his body and his surroundings.

“Be still,” a voice commanded from the blur that was all his eyes could perceive.

At first, the vampire did not understand where he was or what was happening. Should he not be awakening in his coffin at his castle? What was this place, and what fool would dare invade his resting place? A savage pain blossomed in his chest and he thought he was surely dead. There was a scream somewhere from the fog around him.

“Save your strength,” the voice snapped again, louder as it spoke over the sounds of an animal in pain.

Was this voice speaking to him? He wasn't sure, the world around him seemed shrouded in fog to him. He could not even recognize the language. The smells and sounds were off, the sights blurred into one solid mass of varying shades. His mind was fading in and out, the edges of his thoughts meshing into darkness.

“No, do not go back to sleep just yet, Vampire,” the voice returned, and he felt movement somewhere in the world outside of his tortured thoughts. He could not recognize the sounds that filtered into his mind nor could he place them with the moving colors in the blurred mass that his eyes gathered.

Then there was blood, the only scent his mind was able to label. His body screamed for it, blocking out any and all other thought. Desperately, Dracula tried to lunge toward the overpowering scent of life, but was stopped short. He could not manage to move his body the way he wanted it to.

“Easy,” the voice purred, sounding unnaturally gleeful. “Stay still. You need to save your strength. I am sure that for even you that is no easy wound to heal.”

Abraham smiled down at the delirious vampire, his lips curving into a grin as he watched the way Dracula was obviously out of sorts yet lunged toward his cut wrist on instinct alone. He had removed the stake with little difficulty. The creature's wrists and ankles had been chained before leaving Europe, and he decided to leave them, fastening his wrists to the stone wall, and the loose chain that held his ankles to a ring on the floor. It would be uncomfortable, but it would do for now.

He crouched before the chained figure, holding his wrist over a shallow bowl and letting his blood drain slowly into it. Only enough to heal the stake wound, but not enough to regenerate too much of the hell-beast's power. He needed to keep Dracula weak if he had any hope to contain him here until a more suitable room could be established.

“Here you are,” he spoke in a quiet, soothing voice to the creature. “Drink this. You should feel much better.”

Abraham quickly wrapped a cloth around his wrist, holding the bowl to Dracula's lips and tilting it slightly. Bloodlust glittered in the fiend's dull eyes, and the guttural purrs were tinged with savagery. Abraham remained steady as he watched Dracula drain what little blood had pooled in the bowl, and a long, pointed tongue, like some hellish tentacle, flicked from the monster's lips to lap up the remaining drops which clung to the bottom.

An eerie sucking sound hissed through the air. Abraham flicked his eyes to the gaping wound of the vampire's chest and smiled when he saw the flesh and muscle knitting together. Abraham sat back on his heels, pulling the bowl away and setting it to the side. He waited for the Dracula to gather himself back from the dazed, near death existence of the past week.

Dracula's body cried out in ecstasy as he drank, but it was over far too soon. There should be more, much more. He needed it. His senses told him there was life here, but he couldn't reach it, for something held him in place and would not allow him to seek out that which he needed to sustain himself. Realizing he was not able to move, the vampire relaxed, letting his head hang to rest his chin on his chest.

The fresh blood flowed through his body, healing his hurts and giving strength back to his limbs and senses. His blurred vision sharpened, smells and sounds righted themselves, becoming discernible. The mass of fogged thoughts cleared as well, allowing his mind to fly through the events of his recent history. With a gasp of unneeded air, he snapped up, a puppet suddenly brought to life by the strings.

To be sure, the smirking visage of Abraham Van Helsing was not what he wished to see at this particular moment. A rage filled him, bringing new strength to his limbs. A feral snarl ripped from his lips as he lunged toward the human, infuriated with the mocking smirk. His teeth snapped together mere inches from the mortal's face.

“Glad to see you are well enough,” Abraham stated, his tone cool and even.

“You bastard!” Dracula hissed, leaning back and taking stock of his surroundings. “What is this?” He snatched at his wrists, finally realizing he was effectively chained in place, wrists locked together over his head, legs stretched out over the ground so that he was sitting upon a stone floor, his ankles chained in place.

“This?” Abraham sat back on his heels, looking around. “This is going to be your new home until the cell I have selected is ready to hold you.”

Dracula snatched at his wrists, not taking his eyes off the man before him. “Release me!” he snarled viciously, his weakness well hidden behind a mask. Always he was the actor, the prince of lies.

“Oh no, Count. You lost the war, I won. Is it not my right as victor to take from you?” Abraham smiled wickedly. “I claim you as my prize.” Though he continued to mentally tell himself it was only to make Dracula repent, he could not hide the feeling of dark happiness that welled in his chest, and his loins, at the prospect of having this great beast bow to him.

The vampire jerked back slightly, his eyes narrowed as he observed Abraham with transparent hate. “Your prize?” Dracula seethed. “I am no prize, least of all a humans,” the vampire narrowed his eyes sharply, tilting his head to glare toward the man. “And least of all yours! I belong to no one. The only interests I serve are my own! You are a bigger fool than I could have ever imagined if you plan to let me live, old man.” The thickly accented voice was near a growl, making the creatures words difficult to understand, but the human understood the look and tone very well enough.

Abraham only smiled, adjusting himself to rest his wrists on his knees. “We shall see, vampire. But if you do choose to serve me, you will have all the blood you need to sedate yourself. You will never know hunger nor danger from any outside source. I ask for your obedience. Is that not all you asked of your own servants?”

Oh, Abraham already knew the answer to such an offer. He expected, even hoped, Dracula would turn it down with disdain, but he had to satisfy the nagging voice in his mind that repeated that this was not to feed his own dark desires. And the vampire did not disappoint. He answered Abraham not with word, but with action. Spitting a mix of blood and saliva into the human's face, he snarled, pulling at the chains once more. Abraham kept his cool demeanor, slipping a hand into his coat to withdraw a handkerchief which he used to clean the mess from his face.

So suddenly that not even the vampire sensed the change, Abraham brought a closed fist against Dracula's jaw, cracking bone and rattling teeth. Shocked though he was, Dracula recovered quickly, his jaw repairing itself with the low blood reserves of his body. He twisted in his chains, seething in the restraints and spewing forth a torrent of frenzied invectives as he fought to reach Abraham, who had by then withdrawn his hand to replace the handkerchief into his coat and stood to look down at the monster.

“You will regret that move, beast,” Abraham commented evenly.

Dracula looked up at the man, anger coating his vision in a red shade. There was something in Abraham's eyes that made him pause, though he was not sure why. It was as if the man who stood before him now, and the man he had been talking to moments before were two very different individuals.

“You and I will continue this discussion later. I have things that need attending to. Behave yourself.” With that, Abraham turned on his heels, ignoring the frenzy of curses in multiple languages being shouted to his back.

OoOoO

Dracula sat in stillness and silence for some days. He was not quite sure how much time had passed, as the internal clock that helped him function was offset by his body's lack of blood and life. No matter how much he twisted, pulled, or wrenched at the chains that held him, they would not give the slightest. As weak as he was, he would be unable to snap the chain, though he had a strange feeling the human would have blessed them to keep him from doing so.

Instead, Dracula opted to use this time to himself to think and piece together everything that had transpired. He had fled back to his homeland after realizing there was a hunter on his trail, and this hunter knew exactly what to do, and how to do it. But the hunter had followed him, into his very homeland, bringing the band of would-be heroes along with him. The man had trapped him, cornered him, and staked him.

'You have nothing. You are nothing. Nothing!'

The words still rang clear and loud in his mind. Abraham Helsing had bested him. And apparently, the human did not slay him as he should. No, this man was a fool. Instead, Abraham wished to take him alive as his 'prize' for victory. Though his plans went unknown to the vampire. What could that man have planned? It could not be so dark a design as to lock him away somewhere hidden. No, Abraham would have killed him. It would be so much easier if he wished to just be rid of him. Abraham had left him alive, and was keeping him prisoner. This meant the mortal wished something from him. Dracula contemplated this as he rested, allowing his body to relax and heal. The discarded stake lay several feet from him in the darkness, still coated in his blood.

Abraham would surely pay for this humiliation. There was no doubt in the vampire's mind.

OoOoO

“What do you think?” Abraham asked cheerfully to his wife as he took her hand, helping her from the carriage. Her dress brushed over her ankles as she stepped onto the ground, the gravel crunching under her delicate feet.

Blue eyes were framed by the few strands of loose curls that had worked their way from the clip that held most of her hair at the top of her head. Her features were almost cherub like, with a small nose, soft eyes set in a rosy cheeked face. Her lips were plump and a deep pink, partly open to expose ivory teeth, just slightly crooked.

She looked up at the three story manor, her eyes wide. Abraham smiled, sliding his hand into hers as he looked over her shoulder to the young Arthur climbing out of the carriage with the help of one of the maid servants. Elizabeth looked over her shoulder, smiling sweetly at the boy, who was no older than thirteen, and took his hand. Arthur looked a bit annoyed by her affection, but allowed her to capture his hand and pull him to her side.

“Look, William,” she whispered to him, crouching down so she could speak in his ear. “We have a summer home now. We will be able to pick flowers and tend to a garden while the sun shines.”

Arthur bowed his head, the messy blond hair atop his head waving almost like wheat in the breeze. “I'm not William, Mother,” he replied quietly, his voice tinged with a sadness that stretched many years. “William died, remember?”

Abraham squeezed his wife's hand, a sadness in his own eyes. “This is Arthur,” he pressed, squeezing her hand and pulling her along as he walked around the expansive lawn. “I have no doubt that you can turn this desolate place into one of great beauty,” he smiled at his wife, and she returned the smile, her eyes brushing over every inch of the green grass.

She had been not quite there ever since William died. Abraham feared something just snapped inside of her. At most times he was sure she was fully aware of everything, perceptive and understanding. But he had noticed that in times of stress, such as this one of moving to a new home and country, that her grip on reality slipped. He wrapped his arm around her waist, hugging her close. She had held her weight well for all the trials of her life. Plump, but not fat, she was a sweet, beautiful woman, just a bare head shorter than he was.

Arthur let his mother hold his hand as he looked around at the new home as well. So much space, it was much different from their home in Holland. It was warmer here. He could hear the laughing of young boys by what he assumed to be the stables. Maybe there would be more company here. He hated leaving Richard behind, his brother had been his best friend for most of his life, but Richard was finishing school and would not be coming to England for some time. Arthur could never shake the feeling that his father was forever disappointed in him. After William passed, Arthur felt his father's eyes on him, expecting things that could never be done, and sometimes, blaming. But Abraham was good at hiding how he truly felt about something. Richard had the same trait, but Arthur knew that had passed over him. He was never able to hide his true feelings about anything.

“Come,” Abraham announced, smiling at the two and leading the way toward the manor. “The inside is not very much to see, but I'll have better furniture brought in. I hired staff and they are working on cleaning up most of the more unclean rooms. But please stay out of the basement. There are vermin running about in every corner down there, I have a team coming in a few days to help clean it out.” 

Abraham led his family into their new home, giving a short tour to show them the main points of the house such as the kitchen, the various sitting rooms, the dining room, and lastly their bedrooms. Arthur stepped into the room titled as his own, and looked around the wide expanse of sparsely decorated walls, and shuddered. There was an odd chill he had felt since stepping into the manor, and had mostly tried to shake it off until now.

This little area that was supposed to be his haven felt cold and uninviting, more like a cage than anything. Abraham had already moved on with his wife to show her one of the rooms with several large windows that captured the light. He had talked about wanting to make that room a little area just for her to enjoy her days.

Arthur set his bag down atop his new bed and looked around the room again, wishing he were back home with Richard.

“Anywhere but here,” he whispered to himself, shuddering again. There was something evil here, he could feel it. But it wasn't in his room, nor anywhere his father had showed them. Which left the only place his father was sure to not give them a tour of. The basement.


	2. My Father's Son

“Love and fear. Everything the father of a family says must inspire one or the other.” ~Joseph Joubert

Focus. That was all the matter required, complete focus. The cell was oppressive, the chains were heavy, and he was very hungry. Dracula sat, unmoving, in his restrains, eyes closed as he leaned forward, hands clenched into fists. Pouring what little power remained into a single thought, the vampire attempted his escape. He had never needed much focus to use his powers, not even in the first days. But there was a weight on him, one he could not exactly place, and he found himself needing to shut all his senses, letting his mind concentrate on only this one task.

He had been locked in this place for several days, perhaps nearly two or three weeks. Abraham had visited only one time since the vampire's arrival here. On that visit, the human had brought blood. A pathetic, meager amount, but blood all the same. It did little to regain his power, which was perhaps what Abraham wanted. The weight of the room only seemed to increase as he sat, bored out of his mind for days and nights. The room had no entertainments, nothing with which he could occupy his mind more than counting the stones, then the cracks, then the pathways of the mortar. The plague creatures refused his call, not a single roach, rat, or snake found its way into his holdings. And so he turned his mind to escape, hoping that the blood he had received would aid him in his plight.

At first, he thought it a failure, that perhaps Abraham had spelled the chains to keep him in, as well as keeping him from breaking them. Then the world faded into a fuzzy, out of focus image. His body melted from it's solid state of flesh and blood, becoming instead the very air. A mist flowed away from the wall, his being now encompassing a cloud. It filled his body and mind with a light weight, floating sensation, and for a moment, he lost himself in the sensation.

His focus shattered once he was free, and the mist sucked itself together like a vacuum, returning Dracula to his true form. He collapsed, cursing as he rested on his knees, palms resting on the floor as his fingers curled into claws, trying to dig into the stones with little affect.

He was on his feet without another thought, striding confidently toward the door. Dracula's mind already swam with images of destruction. First he would go for Abraham, capture the human, perhaps torture him to weaken him. Next, would be the man's family. Dracula had remembered from a bit of research that Abraham had a few sons and a wife. Nothing crushed a man more than watching his family tortured then killed. It may be more a punishment to set Abraham free then, so the human would live on. But no. Dracula shook his head as he stopped at the door, frowning. To rip away everything a man held dear left an enemy with nothing to lose. He himself had been subject to such an action. It would be better to kill Abraham and leave no enemy.

Resuming his stride, he attempted to phase through the iron, move through the solid metal as if it were part of the air, a fiction of his imagination. But the talent failed him as he found himself connecting with a solid he was unable to pass through. Frustrated, the vampire hooked his fingers through the handle, pulling it, but found the door securely locked. Feeling anger rear it's head, Dracula closed his eyes, stretching out his senses carefully. It would be foolish to waste what little power he still had before facing Abraham himself, or the rematch would be a humiliation.

Dracula cursed as his mental fingers encountered wards. Holy scripts and spells all unseen wrapped about the room creating an impenetrable barrier. The vampire paced at the door, gritting his teeth as he found himself yet again held in check during Abraham's dangerous game. Very well. He would wait. The moment the door opened a wrath unlike any other would descend upon this house.

OoOoO

Abraham rested his head in one hand, feeling weary from several sleepless nights. His newest project, designing a room to hold Dracula, had been met with several failures but the most recent attempt held strong promise. He had originally hoped to keep Dracula chained and controllable almost like a puppet with a series of pulleys. However, Abraham realized this would be difficult to construct, and even more difficult to manipulate an unwilling vampire into any position.

Then was the thought that he wanted the vampire to be at its full strength for his studies and mastery. Conquering Dracula while the vampire was weak would mean nothing, but to dominate it while it was strong and healthy would accomplish much more. Abraham stared at several books laying open before him. To restrain Dracula's dark magic and hellish abilities would need more than a few simple wards.

A soft knock at the door demanded his attention. “Come in,” he called, straightening and moving his research out of the way. No one else in the house knew of his guest in the lowers, not even Elizabeth or Arthur. He wished he could tell them, but Elizabeth's state would not allow her to accept reality, let alone the supernatural. Arthur, though clever for his age, would likewise not understand, perhaps when he was older, but not yet. Abraham took great care in keeping all signs of his various trips into the lowers secret, and hid even his notes and documents on his current studies.

The door to the library opened slowly, a young man in his late twenties peered inside, nervous grey eyes darting about until they fell upon Abraham. The man beamed, pushing the door open fully and stepping just inside, a bowler hat held between nervous fingers. The man was a bare inch shorter than Abraham himself at five feet, nine inches, with messy black hair that was trimmed short and neat. His skin was paler than a working man, suggesting a career indoors. His dress was one of a doctor, fine black material, with a white undershirt and shining black shoes.

“Abraham,” the man announced, still smiling broadly as he took another cautious step forward as if unsure in this new environment. And truthfully, this was the first time he had set foot in Abraham's new home.

“John,” Abraham answered in return, standing and putting himself between the table containing his notes and striding forward to offer his hand to the younger man. “John Seward, it is good to see you again. I've been worried my friends had abandoned me to less respectable company.”

Seward seemed to blush, taking Abraham's hand and shaking his head. “No no, but in fact that is why I am here, to speak to you about your new friend.” He looked nervously around, his cheek sucking in slightly at the side giving the impression that he was chewing the inside of his mouth. “It's not here is it?”

Abraham shook his head and pointed to the floor. “He is below, well secured so please do not worry. Sit down,” Abraham offered, one hand sliding around Seward's shoulders as he led the man forward, his other hand sweeping out to the couch. “Sit, make yourself comfortable. You must tell me of the state of our friends before we digress to unpleasant news.”

The younger man smiled, dropping himself onto the overstuffed leather couch. “What is this?” Abraham asked, chuckling as he reached out, poking at Seward's hair covered chin. “Decide to personify the stereotype of a doctor? Or are you trying to empress your learned men at the lectures?”

Seward blushed truly, reaching up to brush a hand over the slight amount of well trimmed, black facial hair that covered the bottom of his face. It branched from his mustache, circling his mouth in a low cut, gentlemanly design. “My barber suggested it a few weeks ago. He said it would impress the womenfolk. And you know I need a wife.”

Abraham laughed, settling himself in his chair again and crossing his legs as he leaned back, smiling as his old friend. Still friend, once something more. “Have you had any luck?” Abraham inquired with the raise of an eyebrow. Seward shook his head, sighing.

“Not as of yet, but I am still hoping. Without you around anymore I haven't a clue what to do with myself in the physical area.” Seward stated this last sentence quietly, his voice soft and just above a whisper. He let his eyes fall to the table, lifting to judge Abraham's reaction then falling to the table once more. 

Abraham sat quiet for several minutes, then leaned forward, uncrossing his legs as he clasped his hands atop them. “John, you realize such things are taboo in society. We would have been suspected after much longer. And I met Elizabeth, and while there is nothing wrong with us meeting,” he cleared his throat, lowering his own eyes then locking them back onto Seward. “Once in a while, it cannot be as it was before.”

Silence followed his comment, and he leaned back in his chair again, frowning as he steepled his fingers. Seward only nodded, almost mournfully, resting back onto the couch, eyes lowered to the floor. Coughing softly into his hand, he sighed. “Well, onto the matter of why I am here. Ahh, but wait, you want to know how the others are doing, right?”

Glad to have the sensitive subject out of the way, Abraham nodded, smiling at Seward with a smile that touched his eyes. “Yes, how are Jonathan and Mina? Quincey the old dog, and Arthur?”

The younger man laughed, crossing his legs as he stretched his arms over the couch around him. “Jonathan and Mina have hid away from us. Quincy received a telegram from them three days ago. They finally had their wedding and are a happily married couple, though Jonathan still has nightmares, and Mina fights the odd craving from time to time.” Seward shuddered, shaking his head. “Quincy, as I last saw him, was boarding a ship back for America. He promised to send word when he arrived. He plans to head west, or so he says, to help oversee the rail road.” At this, Seward smirked at his friend, chuckling softly under his breath at Abraham's eye rolling expression.

“Our good Lord Godalming is back at his estate, living peacefully. He tells me he is seeing other women but I am skeptical. I think he still visits Lucy's tomb.”

Abraham listened to the news, his smile broadening until the final addition, where his lips fell into a hard frown. “You should keep a watch on him, John. He is exhibiting several of the symptoms for a very dark depression. If he falls too low...”

“I know, I know,” Seward nodded, bringing a hand to his lips in thought. “I worry about him, worry that he may try to join Lucy of his own accord. I keep a thorough check on him, and have others give me reports of his activities. If he knew he would skin me.”

“Indeed,” Abraham replied, falling into silence and thought. Seward fidgeted for a moment, recognizing the brooding posture and expression of his old teacher very well. Clearing his throat softly, he leaned forward. “But yes, back to the matter of why I am here. Abraham, you are my good friend, and at one time, very much more. And to me you still are both, but this choice of yours, to keep the Count alive and whole, it does not sit well with any of us. Jonathan's nightmares are based on his worries of that monster coming back for him and Mina. Quincy I believe, at his heart, fled the country in fear, brave man that he is, he is no match for that monster.”

Abraham's eyes narrowed as he listened, his frown deepening it's intensity upon Seward, who was transparently uncomfortable under the gaze. “The Count still living also adds to Arthur's depression. And I am deeply worried for you being here with that thing. It can control you, Bram,” Seward unconsciously falling onto an old pet name he had used several years before with Abraham. “No good can come from that thing. I know you. I know you can kill it. Why have you chosen to keep it alive? And in your home of all things?”

“You don't understand,” Abraham countered immediately, standing to move around the chairs and relocate himself to a nearby window. “If I can harness the power of that creature, so much can be accomplished in this world. If that power was given a direction instead of flitting through the world at the whims of a chaotic demon, there could be no end to the possibilities!” Abraham turned to Seward, who had likewise stood, frowning in worry.

“How do you plan to 'harness' this power then? Surely Dracula would not give up to you. He would not allow himself to be pointed at something like a weapon or a hunting dog and used at man's whims.”

Abraham shook his head, sighing. “No, he would not. Gaining control over him is the first key step. I believe I have found a way.” He quickly stepped around Seward, advancing to the table containing his scattered books and writings. He picked up a sheet, showing Seward a crude drawing. It appeared to be a pentagram, a five pointed star surrounded by a circle. But several symbols were arranged between the star's points.”

“Abraham,” Seward began, carefully taking the sheet from Abraham's hands and looking over it with a deep frown. “This does not look like any God made thing.”

The older man shook his head, growling under his breath. “Don't you understand? Even the darker powers can be harnessed for good. This is only the beginning. I have this symbol in one of the lower level rooms. I cut it into the floor and filled the gaps and holes with silver so it is even better than drawn with chalk or salt, or even the wafer. I believe the power of silver will add to the control over the monster. Blood is the key to make it work, I think. Blood is always the key with these monsters. I just have to get him into the sigil, within it's grasp then give it a drop of my blood and he will not be able to step foot out, trapped.” Abraham dropped his hands quite suddenly onto Seward's shoulders, starting the younger man who looked at him with wide eyes. “If I can use that monster, control it, no one will ever have to die like Lucy, or be tainted like Mina.”

Seward backed up a step, dropping the page back onto the table. “If you would kill that thing, no one would die or become tainted either. This is a great risk, Abraham. You will not even be able to test it without putting yourself in great danger. I tell you, burn that monster, stake it, rid this world of that evil!”

Abraham shook his head, lifting his hand to touch cool fingers to his forehead. “You don't understand. I had hoped you of all people would, John.”

Seward felt a pang in his heart, closing his eyes as a mournful feeling passed through him. “Very well,” he answered in a whisper several moments later. He stepped forward, placing his hand on Abraham's shoulder. “Show it to me then, tonight when your wife sleeps and no one can disturb us. Show me this magic, and let me help you think of a safer way to test it than to throw the Count in and hope to God he won't come out again.”

The grateful look on Abraham's face brought a twinge of happiness to John's heart, but he could not quell a gnawing fear, an instinctive fear that where anything concerning the Count, plans would always go awry. Which is why he offered his aid to Abraham. If he was nearby when anything happened, he would be able to aid his old lover.

OoOoO

Arthur stood before the entrance to the basement. This late of night no one stirred, not even the dogs his father had purchased a few days before. Darkness flowed like a liquid from the door. It was not a visible darkness, like a shadow, but rather a slow, seeping feeling that tingled at the human instinct to flee and hide from danger. It made his skin crawl with a sick feeling of decay. Arthur held a lamp high, peering at the door. There was something odd about it, like how he would sometimes write on steamed glass, and the glass would dry leaving a very faint mark that could only be clearly seen when it misted again. The door seemed a bit blurred in this sense, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Taking a deep breath, he wrapped his fingers around the handle and pushed forward. It opened almost silently, which surprised him. His father said this was never used, yet the hinges were well oiled. Arthur sensed a mystery, an adventure, and forced himself to smile bravely. There was something unnatural in the basement, and he would find out what it was. Holding his lamp out, Arthur looked down a long stairway. It fit his idea of a basement, a long stairway leading into darkness, and so he proceeded cautiously.

He closed the door behind him, shutting himself into a ring of light against the darkness. The sense of something wrong, something wicked increased, but it was not near, just near by. Arthur bit his lip as he continued down the stairs, counting twenty six total stairs before he set foot on a solid floor. His light showed him a hallway, with a few doors. Arthur thought himself a brave explorer as he passed these doors, feeling nothing from them so judging them unimportant.

The musty smell of the stone around him threatened to make him sneeze, but he fought it off, knowing the sound would echo against the walls and alert anything to his presence. The tiny sound of rat's claws skittering against the floor startled him only once before he calmed, realizing what it was.

The end of the hall came quickly, and he judged it only about eight or nine meters from the last step. It split off in two directions, one hall continuing right, one continuing left. Arthur paused now, wondering what kind of basement had this sort of maze like quality. This was more than a basement, this was an entire lower floor. He considered which direction to take, closing his eyes to feel the dark flow of energy in the air. Choosing left, he followed the flow, keeping his lantern high as he squinted his eyes in an attempt to see through the darkness. Cockroaches fled from the light. He could make out their tiny, and some not so tiny, forms bolting over the walls and floor.

There were rooms everywhere, great iron doors dotting the hallway walls. Arthur could not resist peeking into one, finding it empty. Inspecting another, he found it piled high with old crates of rotting cloth. Most of the other rooms were locked tight, and so he quickly abandoned his search of random rooms and instead devoted himself to following the strengthening sense of darkness. It lead him to a great door which held the same, strange blurry sense about it as the basement's main door had. Steeling himself against facing some unknown thing, he pushed it open, finding himself at the top of another long flight of stairs.

Again he wondered at what type of basement this was, and why a house would need lower floors built into the very ground. He could feel the temperature drop by degrees at each step he took, and the bottom of these, he shuddered, rubbing his hands over his arms and wishing he had worn more than his night clothes.

The doors he was faced with now were different, thicker. Some held small barred windows at the top, others did not. It was almost like some kind of prison. And the sense of oozing darkness here clogged his senses, weighing on him like heavy gravity.

Arthur began to hesitate, believing that whatever he felt was surely stronger than the deluded senses he was getting on the first level. Whatever was here was not only unnatural, but he could feel undertones of cruelty, chaos, and something he could only describe as pure and true evil. But Arthur thought of his poor mother, and his father. Surely such a dark thing, whatever it was, did not belong here. If he could get rid of it, the house would be safe, like a priest exorcising a demon.

With the safety of his family in mind, Arthur pushed forward, his sense of adventure quelled dramatically, like a flame doused with water. The doors were more numerous than they were above, suggesting much smaller rooms. 'No, not rooms,' Arthur thought. Cells. This was a prison, a holding place for whoever had owned this house previously. Rats danced away from his feet here, he found himself dodging their fat tails as he walked. Several faint dripping sounds echoed through the darkness, and the smell of mildew choked his lungs.

He found the cell before he even realized he had happened upon it, the epicenter of the sickening darkness. The door looked just like the rest, thick and made of iron, but it had the same blurry appearance as the stairway doors., but this door had a bar latch across it, heavy but not locked. It would keep anything inside from opening it, but nothing on the outside from doing so. Arthur stepped forward slowly, his shuffling steps sounding like drum beats in his ears, and placed a hand upon the door, feeling the rough rust covering it's surface. Energy jolted through his arm, not like the strange electricity so recently discovered, but like faith, the feeling of being in church when everyone is singing and there is a spirit presence there. Arthur backed up with a gasp. This was some kind of holy ward. His father had told him once about them, that men could set angels to guard doorways, too keep darkness out. Or, Arthur speculated, to keep some kind of darkness in.

If some spirit guarded this doorway from darkness exiting, then it would also keep the entity from passing through the walls or floor, or exiting at all. But if the door were to open, that chain would be broken. Arthur debated with himself, arguing as he wondered if he should open the door and confront whatever was beyond, or turn back and leave it there.

Boyish ego and curiosity won out, and he reached out before he could think of another reason not to, and threw the heavy latch back, turning the handle and pushing the door open.

OoOoO

Dracula had not even sensed anyone beyond the door. He attributed it to Abraham's wards rather than to his own weakness. It was not the nature of the vampire to be unable to sense anything in it's weakness, but rather those senses increased shortly before drying out or dying. Those moments of fear and lack of sustenance found the body delving deep for every last scrap, giving the creature a bit of a boost. Dracula scoffed at all of this. Even if it was all true, he was no where near that weak. Not yet.

The moment the door opened he was on his feet, lunging for it, hoping to catch Abraham or whoever was beyond it by surprise. Instead, he found that he soared over the head of a young boy. The vampire had expected his visitor to be about Abraham's height, and as such aimed for the throat. Landing with the grace of a hunting cat a few meters behind the shocked boy, Dracula remained crouched, whirling to face the human, his mouth salivating at the scent of young, innocent, and virgin life.

Oddly enough, this boy smelled like Helsing. And indeed, Dracula grinned, though he was sure it looked more like a snarl, a cavern of sharp teeth. This boy shared very similar features to Abraham. Damn, it was the man's son. The vampire took a step forward, remaining crouched as if he were considering pouncing and ripping the young life from such a tender throat.

Whether by some strange instinct of prey animals, or by the fierce look of the vampire, Arthur quickly backed up, staggering and falling hard on his back side within the doorway of the cell he had just opened. Dracula jumped then, landing almost on all fours at the doorway, harsh glowing lamps of eyes peering quizzically down at an unmoving, trembling Arthur.

Arthur had never felt so afraid, nor so helpless. The thing crouched at the doorway, not but a few inches from his feet, and just looked at him. He pulled his legs against him quickly, standing up and still holding his, miraculously unbroken, lamp. He held it up, watching the demonic eyes of the monster brighten as pupils contracted into narrow ellipsis in the light that washed over it.

On first impression, it looked like a corpse, dried skin of a grey, bloodless shade stretched thin over it's bones, giving it a starved look. It was clothed in, what Arthur thought, may have once been fine clothes, black flowing shirt with a white undershirt that looked stained, and black trousers. The thing wore no shoes, and it's feet shared a similar look to it's hands, long thin digits tipped with curving claws. Arthur dared his eyes to move up to the thing's face, flicking over the details of the sunken cheeks and the rictous snarling smile that decorated half of it's face. Teeth. It had far too many teeth than any creature should have. They were like the jagged peaks of mountains, pointing in all directions, some longer than others, and four much longer than all the others.

It's looked as if it had facial hair, a ghost of a mustache and a short crop of hair along it's chin and jaw line were all to testify. Arthur was not sure, but it looked white, blending in with the thing's skin. The monster had long, gently curling hair, also white, but showing shades of grey in patches. It's hair fell below the shoulders, hanging as it watched him, making it's own observation about him, or so he thought. To Arthur, the monster looked a bit like some sort of mountain warlord from stories. At least it would if it wasn't looming at him like a wolf over a lamb, staring at him with predatory eyes filled with hunger, and flicking a pale, pointed tongue over those jagged teeth.

Then, just as suddenly as it had leaped out of the cell, the monster whipped around in a single fluid motion, losing no momentum, and leaped with unnatural grace beyond his circle of light, disappearing into the darkness with not a single sound.

Arthur remained where he stood, breathing heavily through his mouth, eyes wide and fearful. That thing, it had to have been some kind of demon. While he had expected a force of some sort, it never occurred to him that whatever it was could truly hurt him, that it was a physical thing with teeth and claws with such hunger in it's eyes. Everything had happened so fast, and now he had no way of getting out of this place safely. Anyone who stepped foot past the doors would be in danger. Arthur did not understand why it had not harmed him, but instead bolted off. How could he? That monster could not hold the intelligence for intelligent thought, or could it? He could see nothing in the soulless depths of those eyes, at least not for the few moments it had been there.

Choking back a soft cry of hopelessness, Arthur sank to his knees on the floor of the cell, the lantern dropping roughly to land standing up beside him as he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, willing himself not to cry or wet himself. What was he to do now? Shut the door of this cell to lock himself in and hope the ward would lock back in place to keep the monster out? But Arthur could see no positive of that, he would just be locked in this dark place until the gas ran dry in his lantern, waiting to die from whatever killed men in these situations, starvation, thirst, or fear.

Dracula bounded for the steps, his movements very like that of wolves. The hallways were foreign to him, each leading him to more rows of cells or a dead end. It took several minutes before he found the stairway leading up, and he made them all in a single leap, landing on the top step with a slight stagger. He cursed his weakness, but pushed at the door, fighting back a roar of rage when he found it equally warded as his cell door had been. He was trapped still, but at least Abraham did not know exactly where he was held now, and he may be able to take the man by surprise upon his next visit. But then, there was the boy. Why had he left that young one alive? It was much needed blood, so pure and unguarded. There was nothing to stop him from tearing his fangs into that soft throat.

Dracula hissed, leaning against the door he was unable to pass through. That was why he had left the boy alive. In case he could not escape. While the vampire may be unable to open this door, the human boy could. Helsing's son was Dracula's only chance of escape. Without him, Abraham could very well never come back and the vampire would die here.

Pushing away from the door, Dracula began to make his way down the steps, slower this time, thinking of how he would manipulate the boy to free him. It would have been much simpler had he been stronger. It would only be a matter of breaking down the young one's mental barriers and controlling the boy like a puppet. But now, now he must rely upon lies and his own deceitful tongue. If he could convince Abraham's son that it was in his best interest to open the door, freedom would be a taste away, and he would finally win this game he played with Abraham.

Arthur panted softly as he regained his composure after finding himself overwhelmed by the presence of the monster. The thing was still on this level, he could feel it's darkness shifting out through the corridors. But maybe it had found something to distract it's attention. Arthur took up his lantern, holding it like a weapon. In one of his books he had read told monsters fear light and fire. It was small, but all he had. With the scraps of his courage gathered, the boy stepped from the cell, looking down the hallway, blaming the chilled air for his trembling.

He quickly found he was lost. Following the liquid touch of the monster's darkness had made finding this place simple, but now he had no idea which way to turn or how to locate the staircase that would lead to the upper level of this prison. Now, the air did not merely smell of mildew, but of rotted flesh, and dried blood. These things he was sure he would have noticed before if they had already been soaked into the stone. It was the death that followed the creature. Arthur tried to hurry his steps, confident that if he found the stairway door, he could slip out and close it behind, locking the demon in.

His hurried steps lead him to one dead end after another, and he became frustrated, stopping at what he was sure to be the fifth or sixth one, to rest his head against the grimy stone. A rat scurried over his foot and he kicked at it in anger, turning to stomp on the thing's tail when he saw it join a mass of other rats. Gasping, Arthur pressed his back against the wall, watching the furry beasts crawl over each other, squeaking and writhing. He could not even see the floor for all their pressed bodies. Roaches were among them, covering a rat here and there, crawling over the walls, making the stone appear alive for their waving and skittering.

Then the thing stepped forward, the demon in guise of a corpse. The rats and roaches parted for his steps, as the red sea before Moses. It walked straight and tall, Arthur was sure at least a few inches over six feet. It was almost like a king, he thought. A king of these rats and roaches no doubt. The demon paused a few feet in front of him, gazing at him in the same interested expression as before. Arthur dropped his eyes to the floor, directing his vision to the monster's feet, noting the wicked claws upon it's toes, and also noting how the pests stayed well away from him as if he had some sort of invisible barrier surrounding him.

“What is your name, boy?” Arthur started, a quake running through his body as his head snapped up and looked up at the monster with wide eyes. The demon spoke to him! It possessed some strange, foreign accent, but it spoke none the less. Arthur found his voice had fled him, and swallowed, his eyes dancing between the two glowing points of the monster's eyes.

“A..Arthur,” he answered, his voice sounding much more afraid than he had meant it to. Demons responded to fear like wild beasts, he had read. They fed from fear like a drug. “Hel..sing,” Arthur added after a pause, swallowing again and fighting his shudder down. The monster asked his name. It had not harmed him yet.

The monster nodded, its arms hanging loosely by it's sides as it swayed for a moment. Almost, Arthur observed, as if it's footing were unsteady. Then his eyes looked up to meet the same, hunger in the monster's eyes that had frozen his blood before. The muscles of it's jaw clenched, and one hand curled into a tight fist.

“Arthur,” the creature parroted, rolling the name from it's tongue like a sweet candy. “Arthur Helsing. You freed me, Arthur Helsing. You have given me a great gift. And I always repay a dept. What is it that you wish from me? I can give you anything you want, you have but to ask and I will hand it to you.”

Arthur panted, feeling his stomach clench as the thing said more words. The way it spoke, so smooth and silky, it did not match the body, nor the eyes of the beast. “I want you to leave,” Arthur's voice trembled and he bit his lip, remembering stories of evil genies that would twist wishes. “I want you to leave, never come back, and not hurt anyone as you go.” As he said these words, he straightened, arms tight at his sides, looking up at the monster with, what he hoped, was no fear.

Dracula tilted his head listening to the child, a smirk forming on his face. So this was Abraham's son? Very much like Abraham himself. Even in the face of sure death, the boy stood strong, conquering his fear. Naive and stupid perhaps, but willful. Dracula slid to crouch at the boy's level, eyes narrowing slightly as he chuckled. “I would gladly grant that wish, Arthur Helsing. But I am unable to pass the door. I cannot leave. I must first escape this prison to fulfill your wish.”

Arthur bit his bottom lip, reaching back with one hand to feel the solid wall behind him. A roach ran over his fingers and he jerked his hand back, pulling it against his side. “I'll open the doors for you,” he suggested, glad to hear that strength was returning to his voice. “But what guarantee do I have that you will leave and not just kill me and everyone else?”

Dracula tossed his head back, laughing. One hand braced himself on the floor, the other draped over his knee. For a moment his head swam and he was sure he would fall, but somehow retained his balance, never losing his composure for a moment. “If you refuse to let me out,” Dracula chuckled, narrowing his eyes more at the boy. “Then I will eat you, I am so hungry.” The vampire shuddered, tongue flicking from his mouth to pass over his lips. “You have only my word,” he purred softly.

“If you're so hungry,” Arthur shot, glaring as he did not find much amusement in the situation, and certainly did not like being mocked. “Then eat the rats.”

The vampire raised an eyebrow, looking down at the scurrying bodies that moved around him. “The rats?” he questioned, looking back to Arthur. “Their blood is bitter and sour. Unpleasant at the least.”

Arthur grit his teeth, not backing down from the hungry gaze of the demon. “You are high and mighty enough to detest the rats, but you are hungry enough to starve yourself and claim starvation and weakness? Who are you to choose while begging? What is your name?” Arthur felt his anger rise at the demon, but it was sobered by the murderous glare his short rant had earned.

Dracula snapped his teeth on the air, moving an inch for Arthur, deciding dealing with this whelp was far too much trouble than just killing and eating him. But he fought down his own temper, clenching one hand into the stone floor. “My name is of little importance. I will leave if you open the door for me. Anyone important to you will not be harmed by me, and you will never see me again. All I can give you, Arthur Helsing, is my word. If you refuse, you are much tastier than the rats, and so your choice gives me a choice.” Dracula shifted for a moment, waiting for Arthur's answer but receiving none. The boy only glared at him, crossing his arms over his chest and setting his jaw in what Dracula almost took as a pout. This human seemed to think his worth at the moment was too great to annoy the vampire into killing him. And perhaps, he was correct.

The vampire grit his own teeth, shaking his head and standing with fluid grace, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he thought. He did not want to give the boy his real name. Something different would be required but nothing jumped to the forefront of his mind. Then, an anagram would be needed.

“Alucard,” Dracula stated haltingly as he said the unfamiliar syllables. “You may call me Alucard.” The word sounded odd to his ears, as his mind tried to flip it around and trick him into saying the name correctly. But he smiled at the boy, hoping that would be enough.

“Is it your real name?” Arthur asked, garnering a deep sigh from the beast.

“Yes,” Dracula replied, half lying, half not. “Now, open the doors so I can leave this wretched place, Arthur Helsing. The longer I am here, the hungrier I become.”

Arthur watched the monster for several more moments, weighing his options then finally nodding and stepping forward. The rats and roaches parted for his steps as if he were suddenly protected by whatever this monster cloaked itself in. Alucard stepped out of his way, taking a position behind him as Arthur began moving through the grime filled corridors, now surrounded by the stink of decay and old, dried blood.


	3. Circle of Faith

“To one who had faith, no explanation is necessary. To one without faith, no explanation is possible.”   
~ St. Thomas Aquinas

She gave a sudden start, waking from the same horrid dream that plagued her most nights. Trembling hands wiped over her face, smearing tears over her cheeks as she sniffled and tried to mentally wipe away the memory of William's vacant eyes staring up at her as he was pulled from the water. 

Elizabeth Helsing looked beside her, seeking the comfort of her husband's presence, but to her surprise he was absent his usual place. Hands fluttering over her face again, she tried to collect her scattered thoughts and frayed mind into working order. Seward was here, that's right. He visited this afternoon and stayed over. She smiled to herself, almost laughing at the irrational fear that clutched at her heart. 

They would most likely be in the library, chatting at these late hours of the night. Pushing the damp blankets away, she moved to her feet. Around her, she noticed the shadows moving strangely, as if they were reaching out for her. Whimpering, Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut, willing the demons of her mind to vanish. Repeating the mantra Abraham so often told her, that these were simply illusions of her mind, she opened her eyes again, staring at the shadows but seeing no further movement. 

Elizabeth wrapped her arms around her abdomen, stepping from the room into the hallway. Only the moon offered any kind of light to see by, flooding through the unobstructed windows to spill silvery light across her path. This new home was still so strange to her. She was sure the library was up the stairs then to the left. Nothing looked familiar.

Tears gathering once more in her eyes, she gripped a hand into the dark blond mass of her hair as she leaned against a wall, breathing heavily. The house felt so empty and hostile, as if it were a beast that had swallowed her up. 

A new fear gripping her heart, she rushed through the hallways, screaming for Arthur. By luck she stumbled into his room, throwing the door open, wide eyes finding nothing but a vacant room. “No,” she whispered to herself. The house had already digested them. They had vanished and left her alone. There was no one here at all. They had left her as William had, alone and broken.

OoOoO

Mist crept ankle deep over the graveyard, moving slightly with the soft breeze that whispered about the headstones and dead, forgotten flowers. A figure moved through this mist, arms wrapped about his waste as mournful eyes squinted their hollow gaze into the night, following a well-known path to a marble tomb. 

He paused before it, running his hand over the name plate. Westrenra. Arthur Holmwood leaned against the wall, fresh tears coming to his eyes as he curled into himself and slid to the ground. 

“You were all I had,” he whispered to the wall, hands clutching at his coat against the cool mist which licked at his body. “You still are,” he continued in a low, sorrowful voice. “And we will be together again, I promise you that, Lucy.”

Tucking his head against his chest, he closed his eyes to fade into a fitful rest. “We will be together again.”

OoOoO

“I feel as if I've entered an entirely different house,” John's voice echoed through the stone hallways as he followed Abraham through the lowers of the manor. 

Abraham chuckled his agreement. “Yes, it was one of the many appealing factors about this real estate.”

Seward slowed his steps, peering at one of the iron doors they passed. It was partly open and he could make out nothing more than a few aged boxes as Abraham continued on with the lantern. Hastening his steps to catch his companion, John sighed. “It almost matches your own life, Bram. One for all the world to see, and a hidden part that only those who join with you in your dark pursuits see.” 

Abraham's steps faulted for a heartbeat, but as quickly as it happened he caught himself. “What man does not keep secrets?” he finally asked, a slight bitter tone in his voice. “You may not approve of my methods, but I will succeed and the world will be a better place for it.” 

“I will be at your side,” Seward replied almost too quickly. “Even if it is to help you clean up the bodies after something horrible happens.” 

“I am taking every precaution. Nothing horrible will happen for anyone other than the Count.” Abraham paused, half turning to give John a pointed look over his shoulder. “Here we are,” he announced, approaching a door that looked no different than the dozen or so they had already passed in this maze. Hooking his fingers through the handle, Abraham gave a hard push. The heavy door swung open, Helsing's upraised lamp flooding the room with bright, flickering flame light. 

The pair stepped into the room, Abraham smirking as he led Seward toward the center. “I've spent a fair amount of time perfecting this area,” he announced.

The room looked no different than any of the others they had passed. Its walls were bare stone with a few torch racks. It was fairly large, and Seward had a sense of emptiness as he stepped into it. His eyes moved about the room, noting the few items that lay near one wall. There were tools for cutting into the stone, a small pile of books, and a few items he assumed Abraham had used to implant silver into the floor. 

As he moved forward his eyes fell to the stone beneath his feet. In the light of the lamp, a thin line of silver winked up at him. Seward moved slowly, eyes wide as he turned in a slow circle. It was of similar design as the symbol Abraham had showed him on the page upstairs. 

“Dracula is no simple vampire,” Abraham's voice broke the other man's thoughts. “He is a demon born on Earth.” Seward turned, watching Abraham crouch at the edge of the symbol, brushing his fingers over the silver line melted into the floor. “I believe that is why he is so powerful.”

“What do you mean? All vampires are demons. They are unnatural terrors of the darkness, like any hellspawn.”

Abraham straightened, shaking his head. “No, not quite.”

“Father!” A voice gasped in surprise behind them. Both Abraham and Seward whirled to see young Arthur Helsing standing in the doorway, his eyes wide in a mix of fear and horror.

“Arthur?” Abraham narrowed his eyes in anger, taking a long step forward. “What are you doing down here? I told you not to come into the basement!” 

The boy shifted in the doorway, looking over his shoulder into the hall at something the two men could not see. Abraham paused, feeling an odd pressure in the air. Blue eyes hardening as he caught sight of a cockroach running over the top of his son's foot. 

“Arthur,” he called again, a hint of worry in his tone. “Come here.” 

Arthur looked over his shoulder again, biting his bottom lip. Abraham started forward once he saw it, the subtle shifting of the shadow, the unnatural movements that swirled within. He caught sight of twin lanterns of glowing light glittering back at him with sinister intent.

“Son! No!” Abraham's charge stopped short as a hand stretched from the shadows and caught Arthur by a shoulder. Arthur's breath caught in his throat and he stiffened, not daring to move. Abraham's heart sank as Dracula stepped into view, one skeletal hand resting on his son's shoulder.

“Dear God,” Seward swore behind him.

“Professor Helsing,” the vampire announced, its voice almost a harsh growl. “Your son was just giving me a guided tour. It's rude to interrupt him.” 

Abraham did not let his body give in to the sudden terror that flooded his system. “How did you get out?” he bit through gritted teeth. He gripped the lamp tightly in his hand, knuckles going white as he was faced with this nightmare. 

A single shot pistol was tucked into the pocket of his coat, but he knew the vampire well enough that Arthur would be missing several organs before his fingers even touched the handle. This and the silver cross he always wore were the only weapons on hand. Abraham watched Dracula with hard eyes. The creature was weak but there was still no chance a human could overpower him with sheer brute strength. However, there was one other weapon he could employ. Saying a silent prayer, Abraham gripped his lifeline of faith and begged God to not fail him or the three of them would die. 

“Release him, Count,” Abraham commanded, voice hard. Neither his tone, nor stance hinted at the fear that rushed his mind. He mastered his emotions, putting forth a front of control and allowing his mind to reason clearly. 

“Why?” the demon asked, tilting his head forward, grey hair falling over his face. Arthur let out a shrill cry as Dracula tightened his hold, black clawed fingers sinking deep into the boy's shoulder. As if lifting a feather, he raised his hostage from the ground, holding him up with a malicious grin. “He's my new best friend.” 

OoOoO

The boy struggled slightly, but each jerking movement tore the claws deeper into his muscle. Dracula tightened his hold, grin widening when he saw Abraham take a step forward, murder in those blue eyes.

“Move again and I'll kill him. Or maybe not, it would be a bit foolish to so quickly dispose of my shield and hostage. Perhaps I'll start with his fingers. Every step you take, I'll tear one off. That sounds appealing, don't you agree, Professor?” 

Abraham visibly gritted his teeth, the scent of rage tinged with fear rolling from him to spice the air. Dracula moved his free hand to brush against the blood soaked clothing of Arthur's shoulder. Drawing the hand to his lips, he flicked the pointed tip of his tongue over the pads of his fingers, a deep purr rumbling in his chest. 

“He's delicious, Helsing. So young and innocent.” He was baiting Abraham, trying to make the human snap. The man's resolve in the face of death hovering over his child was admirable. 

“Release him,” Abraham growled again, one hand twitching a pocket of that obnoxious red coat of his. 

“Why would I do that?” the vampire questioned, one silvery eyebrow lifting. His red eyes sparkled in mirth, enjoying his adversary's weakness. “He was just going to show me the way out.” 

“I'll show you the way out,” Abraham quickly replied, genuine fear in his eyes. 

Dracula loved every moment of it. A strange, eerie new light came to his eyes, their shade shifting from deep red to an almost orange. “Are you proposing a trade?”

Abraham narrowed his eyes, taking a step back. The creature was weak, too weak to use the black, demon magic it wielded. Once it was sure it could escape, the first thing it would do is feed. For a moment, he tore his eyes away from his son's tear streaked face to look back at Seward. If they survived this, he was quite sure there would be a long lecture waiting for him. 

“You're hungry aren't you?” he asked, forcing calmness into his voice, eyes hard and locked onto the vampire's own. “You need something more than a little boy to come close to quenching that thirst of yours.” Abraham stretched one arm before him, pulling the sleeve of his coat back as he began to slowly back up putting a bit more distance between himself and the vampire. Combining the promise of food with the demon's intent at revenge, Abraham hoped he could distract it into making a mistake.

Dracula's full, undivided attention had settled upon Abraham. Nothing else in the room mattered to him. Only that his opponent was about to surrender. The game was almost won! 

“Myself for my son.”


	4. Premonitions

"Every saint has a past, every sinner has a future." - Oscar Wilde

“Myself for my son,” Abraham repeated, his eyes glaring hard at the vampire though never meeting the glowing gaze for too long. He had seen the hypnotizing power of vampires enough to exercise extreme caution when meeting the stare of one.

Dracula lowered his captive so the boy's feet now rested upon the floor. The vampire's free hand moving to grip Arthur's other shoulder. “Such an easy trade,” Dracula commented, leering as he took another step into the room, pushing Arthur ahead of him. “The moment your son his safe, you'll put a bullet in my chest. No, Professor. Discard your gun first.”

“Abraham,” Seward whispered as he backed away, having no weapon himself. He knew what his friend was planning, and his faith wavered.

“Be quiet, John,” Abraham replied, voice hard as he slowly reached into his coat, withdrawing the pistol and tossing it to the side. Dracula only needed to take three more steps. “Come on then, creature,” Abraham taunted, holding out his arm. His free hand withdrew a small knife from his belt.

Dracula was almost mesmerized as he watched, mouth watering as his grip on the boy loosened. His hunger seemed to elevate as he watched Abraham's motions. Rational thought fought against instinct as he took another step forward, leaning a bit over Arthur's head.

“Come for me then. Leave my son be. I will show you the way out and you can do with me as you will.” A quick movement and blood welled along the man's wrist. Dracula needed no further push.

Tossing Arthur to the side, the vampire released a roar as he lunged. Abraham faulted, his eyes wide as he beheld the horror that screamed for his blood, the monster that lunged through the air with eyes only for his throat. Dracula almost seemed to transform, jaw lengthening to accommodate freshly sprouting teeth, long tongue slithering from their mass like pointed tentacle.

Abraham's blood missed the floor seal entirely as he fell back with a choked cry, startled at the demon's ferocity. Dracula's roar twisted into a cry of victory as his lunge descended, only to end in a cry of pain and confusion as he slammed into an unseen barrier. Something akin to an electric shock tore through his body, thrusting him back to land on his side at the center of the pentagramic circle.

“What?” Dracula rolled to his feet, red eyes scanning over the floor as he spun slowly, taking in the symbols he had missed earlier. “No,” the vampire hissed, whirling to face Abraham, his arms half lifted, fingers curled into claws. Lunging again, he slashed at the air, his claws clashing into the barrier, just short of reaching his target. “No!” Dracula raged, teeth bared as he paced around the circle, searching for any weakness or imperfection that would allow his escape.

“It worked without blood,” Abraham gasped, half in shock, as Seward rushed over and began to tie a handkerchief around the wound at his wrist. Abraham's wide eyes watched as the vampire paced within the circle, though never crossing its edge. He had thought the key to be blood, that the symbol itself would not hold a demon without a payment of life force. The man's eyes slid to the floor, fat drops of blood spotted the stone, but none were touching the silver ring.

“A demons' snare,” Dracula growled, ending his pacing to face Abraham. The creature outwardly seemed to have calmed, but Abraham could sense tenseness, a desire to rip, rend, and seek revenge for its failure. “Clever, Professor.”

Time seemed to return to its normal speed. Abraham put a hand on Seward's shoulder, swaying on his feet from the dizzying adrenaline rush. A small part of his mind felt shame that he had failed to follow through with his original idea, that bleeding on the sigil would seal the demon within. Even though Dracula was ensnared without blood, Abraham felt he had failed in some way, that he had froze and cowered before the vampire's rage.

“Arthur,” Abraham finally spoke, leaning on Seward as they moved around the circle, Dracula's narrowed gaze following their every movement.

The young Helsing had collapsed after being tossed against the far wall, one arm gripping his injured shoulder as he shivered, having watched the events unfold. Tears threatened to streak his face as his father wrapped him in a protective embrace.

“Father,” Arthur whispered as he trembled, fighting against the tears. “What is that thing?” While Abraham saw failure in his actions, Arthur only saw heroism. His father pitted himself against this evil thing and had won. Somehow. A shining knight against the wretched dragon.

Abraham pulled his son back, forming an answer in his mind. How could he explain this to a boy of Arthur's age? He was spared from delivering the tense answer by a gunshot, which set ringing to his ears. Turning quickly, Abraham beheld Seward, arm outstretched, holding his previously discarded pistol now aimed at the vampire.

Dracula staggered a few steps before falling to a knee with a hiss, one hand clutching at his chest. Words in an unknown tongue poured in rolling anger from his lips, each syllable bitten off like a snapping viper. Abraham didn't move, keeping Arthur in his arms as he watched Dracula tremble in his kneel before the demon's eyes shifted to Seward.

“It won't kill him,” the elder Helsing stated as the group watched the vampire curl into himself with a growl. “You missed his heart and the bullet was only silver tipped.” Abraham rubbed his son's back as Dracula staggered to his feet, an angered snarl ripping from his chest as he threw himself against the enclosing barrier again, with no luck.

“I don't want him dead, I want him to suffer,” John stated simply, lowering his arm and looking to the gun in his hand as if he were confused with how it came to be there.

Unwrapping his son from his arms, Abraham stood, nodding to the doorway. “Let's get back upstairs. He won't be going anywhere, and Arthur's shoulder needs to be looked after.”

OoOoO

Arthur's heart had not slowed, even as they left the horror locked in the room and returned to the upper level. He felt as if he were climbing from a grave, the cold, stagnant air giving way to crisp night air tinged with the scent of flowers. His father was silent, never saying a word once they left the lowers. No emotion showed itself on Abraham's face, a stoic mask having taken over. Arthur could hear his own heart beat in his ears, hammering to some unknown rhythm.

“John,” Abraham's voice broke the silence as the door to the lowers shut and locked behind them. “Please retire to the library. I'll be with you in a moment. Arthur's shoulder will need a bit of looking after.”

Seward paused, turning a worried gaze to his friend. Looking between the boy and Abraham, Seward finally nodded his understanding. “I will wait for you by the fire, Bram,” he replied quietly, turning to make his leave for the library.

Watching his father's friend depart, Arthur swayed as exhaustion slammed into his body. Swaying on his feet, he grabbed Abraham's arm to keep his balance, his frame trembling. “What was that thing, Father?” It was the only question his tired mind was able to grasp in the torrent of confusion from the night's events.

Abraham released a sigh, crouching to his son's level to give his injured shoulder a careful look. "That was a vampire," he commented slowly, peeling away the torn fabric from the cut as he helped Arthur remove his shirt. The wounds were deep, and he would have to watch their healing carefully. "Don't go into the lowers without me, ever," Abraham continued, his eyes shifting to lock onto Arthur's. "That monster would kill you without a second thought, infact, it would hunt you down just to kill you for the fun of it. It's not a character from your books or some controlled lunatic in prison. It's not human, and it doesnt think like a human."

"Why is it in the cellar?" Arthur's question was quiet, a whisper as his father took his hand and led him toward his study.

"Because if it is not here then it will be out in the world, free to destroy at it's leasure. It has amazing power that I believe I can learn from. I want to control it, Arthur."

The boy listened as his shoulder was cared for, wrapped in bandage then escorted back to his room by his father. The information he'd learned was almost too great for his young mind, the events of the night weighing heavily upon him. Sleep threatened to overtake him as he slid into bed, Abraham standing over him with a soft smile.

"Do not tell your mother about the creature in the basement. She must not know of it." Arthur blinked up at his father as the man sat at the edge of his bed.

Why his mother would go down to the basement, or even understand such a thing as the vampire living there was beyond Arthur.

OoOoO

Abraham was deep in thought as he stepped into the library, almost completely forgetting Seward was waiting for him. As his friend approached, Abraham raised his head, snapping out of his musing to meet the worried yet stern gaze which had settled over John's face.

"You cannot keep that thing alive, Abraham," Seward began as Helsing released a heavy sigh, shaking his head and stepping around the other man.

"Not now, John." Abraham moved to a chair before the fire, sliding into the leather, one hand rubbing along the side of his face.

Seward turned to face his friend, moving to stand beside the chair with an exasperated sound. "When is a good time, Bram? When it gets loose and kills your family?"

"He didn't get out. You heard him, he couldn't get out on his own, and he cannot step beyond the sigil. He's trapped."

Abraham steepled his hands before his face, eyes closing as he listened to his friend attempting to make him see logic.

"If you do not wish to help me with containing him, John, you are free to leave and never return." Abraham's voice was tired, strained from the night, his failure and success.

Seward was quiet for a moment before he exhaled heavily, crouching beside Abraham's chair to look up at his friend. "That is not what I mean, Bram," he replied quietly. "I just want you to be careful. You are dealing with something very dangerous and deadly. Not only can that thing kill you, but it wants to."

Abraham shook his head once, a grin expression falling over his features, eyes opening to turn to his companion. "There is so much potential available, it only needs a leash."

"I will help you whatever you choose, but this is bordering on madness. Why can we not capture a younger, weaker vampire and you perform your experiments on it?"

Abraham stood then, hand pressed against his sinuses as he moved away from John, closer to the fire to feel the heat washing over him. "You still don't understand, John. Dracula is not a vampire. He is a demon."

"Yes, you were starting to explain this earlier before the Count walked in with your son in his claws. I remember."

Seward met Abraham's irritated look with one of his own. "Explain it to me then. Dracula is a demon, just like every other vampire. What makes this monster so special you would risk your entire family's lives."

Abraham gestured to a chair, raising a dusty blond eyebrow to his friend in a gesture for him to sit. As Seward slid into the creaking leather, Abraham turned back to the fire, hands clasping behind his back. It was several minutes before he spoke, crouching to throw another log into the flames.

"Where do you think vampires come from, John? Where they originated."

Seward folded his hands in his lap, shrugging though his friend could not see. "I've never been interested enough to think on the matter," he commented blandly.

Nodding, Abraham half turned to his friend, the fire's light casting eerie shadows across his face. "There are two types of vampires in this world: the earthly demons, and their thralls or children." He paused for a moment, shifting to face the warm glow of the fire once more.

"Earthly demons were once men, however to gain their power and monstrosity, made deals with demons. Real demons, straight from Hell's pits. They were not bitten by another vampire or turned against their will."

Seward interrupted then, much to Abraham's irritation. "You are saying Dracula was never bitten, that a demon crawled out of hell and gave him his power?"

Abraham nodded curtly, turning his back on the fire to lock gazes with John. "Something like that, yes. Dracula would have summoned the demon somehow, then made a deal with it. The terms I do not know, but upon his death, the Count, or Prince at the time, would have reawoke to walk again in a much different way. Essentially," Abraham lifted a hand, stilling Seward's question or comment as the other man opened his mouth. "Dracula is the son of a demon now. He was reborn through the demon's power and unnatural abilities. I do not know or understand all the workings, but Dracula is not a simple vampire."

"No," Seward agreed, standing slowly, a soft shudder running along his body despite the warmth of the room. "He's something considerably more dangerous. Knowing this, you still keep it. Are there more like him?"

Abraham nodded once, the motion slow as his eyes lost focus in thought. "Yes, there would be. It is some ancient law disallowing full demons to walk the plane of men. Demons find ways around it, to populate our world with their kind by twisting men themselves. If the demon is not born of Hell the law does not apply to it. Men are naturally sinful, thus Dracula is not the only man to have made a deal."

Blue eyes settled back onto Seward, seeing the prestant once more. The night had been long and tiring, his bones aching for the warmth of his bed and the comforting arms of his wife. "I'm sure there are others, but they are incredibly rare. Demons are clever, as we have seen first hand. Even then, vampires were not the only species born of demons. Werewolves, succubi, and other such things are likewise created in the world of men at satanic hands."

Silence followed as Seward absorbed this new information, his figure lowering itself back into the chair to press a hand against his forehead. "Bram, however you are planning to control this monster, do not taint your own soul in the process."

A hand gripped his shoulder lightly and he looked up to Abraham as the man tightened his grip ever so slightly in a gesture of friendship, a grim smile pulling at his lips. "Have no fear in that, John. If my plans fail and Dracula cannot be controlled, I will put the beast down. Be assured of that. It will never know freedom again."

Somehow, Seward did not feel comfort at those words, but likewise nodded, standing to turn with a sigh, hand reaching up to his shoulder, gripping Abraham's own tightly. "I'm going to bed, Bram. It's been a long night and I would like to spend what remains of it in some state of peace."

Abraham nodded, removing his hand from his friend. "My thoughts exactly, John. I will see you in the morning."

As Seward departed, Abraham ran a hand through his hair, teeth gritting as his mind tormented him with memories of the night. Dracula had broken free, nearly killed his son. The action he believed would capture Dracula had failed by his own weakness, even if the demon was still ensnared.

He desperately needed sleep, but there was still one more stop he would need to make before the night was complete.

OoOoO

The bullet had missed his heart by only a few inches. Even then, the pain tore a hole through him, making it difficult for his body to push the silver out. Dracula doubled over at the center of the snare's sigil, black talons of one hand lengthening unnaturally. With a dark snarl, he plunged the points of his own claws into his chest, ripping at flesh and muscle until the bullet was in his grasp. Tearing it away, Dracula threw the bullet from him, a thin line of steam following the metallic clicking as it bounced against the stones to stop only when it reached the far wall.

Pressing a hand against the wound as it began to heal, the vampire remained resting on his knees as he mused over his current situation. Escaping the circle was out of the question. Abraham had been very thorough in its design. Only slivers of his power could slip through, locking him within its constraints.

Once the wound healed, Dracula rose to his feet, walking in a slow circle around his new cage. Four steps, from one side of the circle to another. It was a cramped little space, but one Abraham could not reach him within. To reach his captive, Abraham would need to cross the seal's barrier, and open himself to inevitable attack.

Sure, the human could shoot into the snare, but any object that entered his new domain would be a weapon he could return. Suddenly, Dracula felt a bit dismayed at having thrown away the bullet. Slow steps echoed from the hallway, Dracula turning to silently appraise the door. Weakness pulsed through his muscles, and he lowered himself to rest on the floor, one leg drawn against his chest while the other stretched out before him.

A rattle of keys sounded from beyond the door, soon followed by the click of a lock. Though he knew exactly who it was, the vampire found himself angered that his senses could not penetrate the circle far enough for his awareness to tell him it was Helsing.

Abraham's entrance left something to be desired. Entering, the human had his head low, eyes over the floor as if his attention was somewhere else entirely. He stood too far away, the vampire's awareness only stretching a foot or so beyond the circle's boundary, disallowing him from reading Abraham's distracting thoughts. The vampire turned his head to the side, avoiding the sudden glare of his captor's lantern as light chased at the heels of pitch darkness.

"A demon's snare, human?" Dracula asked, his voice rough as if his throat were filled with sand. "Do your fellows know only Satan priests used them to barter with demons?"

Abraham looked up, a hand brushing over his face, one finger tracing the scar that ran over an eye. "Like you did, Count? Which demon did you trap to make a deal with?"

Silence, and a shark toothed smile were his only replies. The vampire's eyes followed Abraham's movements as the man walked about the room, his eyes roving across the walls and floor as if planning his workshop.

"Your relocation was a little soon, though not too soon, thankfully," Abraham continued when the vampire offered no further comment.

There was a soft scuffing of stone, the man turning to see Dracula rising to his feet. "Are you here to make a deal with me then, Professor? Planning on selling me your soul for power?" Leaning forward, the vampire sneered at him, eyes glowing brightly in the dim light of his lantern. "You friend's don't know do they? They don't know how far you are falling."

"I'm not here to make a deal with you, Dracula," Abraham interrupted before his captive could continue the thought.

"Yes, because you want to take me as your war prize," the vampire barked, clawed hands gesturing to the man in amusement. "You think to control me, as easily as domesticating a dog."

Abraham tilted his head forward as the vampire laughed, his own arms crossing across his chest as he listened. The demon was weak, body frail, and his own hunger had trapped him in his current predicament. "Which demon did you make your deal with, Count?"

Dracula scoffed, eyes flashing softly at the man. "Set me free and I will let his name be the last word you hear as I send your soul to him."

"You're hungry," Abraham commented, crouching to rest the lantern upon the stone at his feet. "So hungry and full of vengeance against me you have entrapped yourself. Without me you'll writhe within that circle, unable to feed, too weak to stand or move, and you'll be powerless to do a thing about it."

He was pleased to see the smirk fall away from the vampire's face, a dark scowl decorating the ivory features. Dracula shrank back to the side of his domain furthest from Abraham. The creature appeared to settle into thought, mulling over Abraham's words. "How much of a prize will I be to you then?" the vampire offered, lips curling in smirk to show only the bare hint of teeth. "Would it not be a bigger boast to have me dead than in a cage you can never open, a starving wretch only a ghost of your past victory?"

The vampire was clever, countering Abraham's veiled threats by using the man's very goal against him. Abraham smiled, a soft chuckle dancing in his throat. "You are already mine, Count, you only have yet to realize it." Holding his arms out, Abraham gestured around him. "This house, the land, I own it. You are a prisoner here, caged in a space barely big enough for you to lie upon. You will feed when I choose it, what you feed upon is my choice."

At Abraham's next words, the vampire bristled. Long grey hair seemed to move of its own will, curling and writhing like a nest of snakes. "You are nothing," Abraham stated, eyes hard, voice commanding and absolute. "You have nothing. Not a coffin to sleep in, or the soil of your homeland, no ability to make choices for yourself. What you see, hear, and feel are at my discretion."

Dracula strode the four steps across his prison, bumping into the barrier which sent a crackle of energy through the air. "In the direction you are bound, Professor," Dracula growled lowly, tilting his head forward slightly to glare at his captor through a curtain of shifting hair. "I will not be the only demon troubling you, for your soul will have a new owner."

The human only smiled, hands sliding into his pockets as he watched Dracula seethe quietly. "Very well, Count," he stated, crouching to take up his lantern again. "I shall bid you a pleasant night." His words echoed from the wall as he strode to the door, the vampire's lamplight eyes following his departure.

"Yes," Dracula hissed under his breath as the door closed and locked leaving him in the comforting darkness. "It has been, and will continue to be, a very pleasing night."

OoOoO

Something was wrong, terribly wrong. She could feel it in her bones as she stepped into the house. At first she didn't smell the blood, but the scent struck her as she pushed the front door open. Blood coated the walls and floor, the signs of a struggle apparent as she stepped inside. Fingers pressed against her mouth, she forced one foot before the other, her eyes glued to a trail of blood. It appeared as if a body had been dragged into the living room.

She braced herself, not knowing why she was even following the trail when every mortal instinct within her screamed to run. Her husband's body lay over the coffee table, his chest torn open to expose mangled organs. The damage was so great, she wasn't quite sure what was missing.

A silent scream rose in her throat as she turned away, covering her face with her hands. There was a soft sound, a light footstep onto the blood soaked rug perhaps, that caught her attention. Turning about, she dropped her hands to confront the intruder only to witness her husband's body as it stood, dead eyes leveling upon her. A sinister glow burned in the irises, hands reaching out for her as it tried to move, stumbling upon wounded muscles. Organs dangled from their invaded home, threatening to drop away from the shambling host.

"You haven't escaped me," a dark voice offered from behind her. He was suddenly there, the owner of that poisoned velvet sound. Standing behind her, Dracula slid his arms about her waist, pulling her back against his chest as she continued to watch the ghoul of her husband approach.

"You're not here," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. "This is all just a figment. I'm dreaming."

The vampire chuckled, one hand moving to slide her long hair back, exposing her throat. "No, Mina, my dear. This is a premonition. He keeps me alive, and thinks to conquer me." Dracula dipped his head, pressing soft lips against the tender skin of her throat. She dared not to push against him, she didn't have the will to, not in this place. "You and I both know this is a folly. While I live, you are mine, no matter how far you run or where you hide. I'm in your mind, Mina. Your soul is mine."

"Abraham freed me," she whispered, her head tilting of its own accord. "You're locked away where you cannot hurt me anymore."

His chuckle vibrated along her spine, one long fingered hand sliding over her inner thigh. "He only erased my mark, dear Mina. Professor Helsing can never return your soul. Human still you may be, but mine you will forever stay."

She turned then, eyes opening to watch the ghoul of her husband, Johnathan Harker, topple over a chair. Mina looked up to the vampire, matching his red eyes with her own in a willful stance. "You cannot hurt me here," she insisted, as if her words gave her power.

Dracula's smile fell, his head tilting back as he looked down to her. "Oh? I cannot?" He was behind her again, before she realized he had vanished. Pain tore through her shoulder as his fangs tore their way into flesh, grinding against bone. Her scream echoed through the house as he ripped his head back, a spray of fresh blood pattering the floor.

One arm snaked across her chest, his other gripping her jaw to force her face to his own. "Did that hurt, my dove?"

The nightmare fell away abruptly, Johnathan's voice crying out her name with a tone of fear and urgency. Mina's eyes snapped open, looking up to her husband. She had fallen asleep on the couch, hoping to catch a peaceful nap in the afternoon hours. Her breath caught in her throat as she sat up, brushing a hand across her face.

She was soaked in sweat, her breathing coming in quick gasps. Moving her hand to her shoulder, she felt for any wound but found none. The pain was still fresh on her mind as if it had all been real.

"What happened, Mina? You screamed as if the devil himself was tearing at you." The presence of her husband always helped to quell the fear within her.

"It was him," she whispered. "The Count. It was a dream, a nightmare." She shook her head at his questioning look. "Johnathan," Mina continued, looking into her husband's dark eyes. "I think he can still reach me."

"It was just a nightmare, love," he replied, gathering her into his arms. "Dr Helsing took the beast away and healed you. It won't trouble either of us again."

Mina shook her head, pressing her cheek into his shoulder. "No, John. We'll never be safe while that thing is alive. Abraham lusts for power, Dracula told me in the dream."

Johnathan Harker pushed her back, looking at her face to face, his eyes hard. "Abraham is a good man who freed you. This was just a nightmare, I have them as well and I'd swear they were real. Go upstairs and clean up, you'll forget all about it."

She wanted desperately to believe him, smiling into his eyes, one hand cupping the side of his face. Placing a kiss upon his lips before leaving, Mina climbed the stairs to their bedroom, loosening the ties of her dress as she closed the door.

A mirror reflected her own sad state. Perhaps John was right in believing it was all a simple nightmare. Mina peeled the dress away, turning to the mirror for a moment to check her hair. The image mirrored back was her own with the Count, standing tall and proud as the day she met him, just behind her shoulder. A cry choked in her throat as she turned about, expecting to see her nightmare come to life, though only the empty air greeted her.

Slowly, Mina looked back to the mirror, her hands fidgeting over her heart. Dracula was there, watching her with an unnatural grin spread over his features.

"No, Johnathan," she whispered to herself as the Count tapped his head with one long finger. "It wasn't a dream at all."

"I'm in your head, Mina, to show you the future," the vampire's voice echoed within her own thoughts.


	5. Desperation

"Tempt not a desperate man." ~ William Shakespeare

Abraham was well aware of the demon's eyes boring into the back of his skull, as if the simple act of staring would give the creature access to the knowledge hidden within bone and neuron. In the five days since Dracula's escape, Abraham had visited the new holding room on several occasions, bringing in an old desk, a stool, along with a few more lanterns to help brighten the room enough for his mortal eyes.

With a soft sigh, Abraham slid to perch himself upon the stool, looking down at the boxes filled with pages and books. Every scrap of research he had been conducting on the dark thing looming behind him was contained within this box. It was all much safer here, separated from his life above ground, with a wife and family. Wicked things should be kept safely locked away.

Keeping his research inside this room he had no fear of his family, friends, or staff wandering in on him or ever stumbling across arcane symbols and books of demons. Even with the vampire's unplanned move, everything had worked out perfectly. Abraham rested an arm across the desk, his head held low as memories of that night flooded him yet again. Part of him had been so ashamed of his cowardice, but now he knew of God's hand in this work. Without the Lord standing beside him, this creature would have been freed within his household and none would have survived. He must have the strength to do what needed to be done, even if that meant sacrificing himself.

His eyes shifted to the small icebox he had carried with him tonight. Dracula needed to feed, his physical state beginning to show signs of severe deterioration. Abraham wanted to use this to his advantage. If the creature was hungry, perhaps he would be able to crack through the thick walls of pride.

Abraham turned on his stool to observe the vampire. Dracula sat at the center of his prison, eyes flickering as true flame, watching the human with a mix of hatred and something else. Abraham guessed it was a sort of detached planning. The creature was taking in every detail of his new situation, and attempting to plot every angle. Perhaps it's only chance of escape had been thrown away in a moment of vicious impulse. If that chance ever came again, Abraham knew well the vampire would not let hunger and revenge rule its mind so easily.

"Feeling ready to cooperate?" Abraham stated, hoping he could prod the creature into speaking. Dracula had not voiced more than a few words of hatred since the night he had fallen into the demon's snare.

As he expected, he received no answer to his question. "That would be a no then?" he chuckled, eyes watching as the vampire barely shifted. "You're hungry, Count. You need to feed. Cooperate, please."

Only a slight narrowing of eyes betrayed any hint the creature had heard him speak. So be it. Abraham lowered a hand, flipping open the icebox which held two bottles of pig's blood, a gift from a select London butcher. The man had cast an odd look at Abraham's request, however blood was used as an ingredient to many different recipes around the world. The Hellsing wondered just how long he could use that excuse before someone began to pry. Mentally, Abraham filed away a reminder to research keeping animals on the estate for butchering and subtle blood harvesting.

A low growl rippled through the stale dungeon air, breaking the vampire's silence. Abraham did not even look up, a smirk tugging at his lips. He had not stoppered the bottles, leaving the scent of blood to fill the room once he removed the icebox lid.

"You'll have to be a bit more polite than that, I'm afraid," Abraham removed one of the bottles, holding it before his face as if inspecting fine wine. In truth, cold blood held a particularly revolting smell to his mortal senses. Not for the first time he wondered on the sheer magnitude of physical changes humans underwent in becoming vampires. How could anything possibly find the metal taste and clogging smell appetizing?

Abraham shifted just slightly, turning to hold the bottle between him and the creature. Dracula was on his feet now, the air crackling with energy as he brushed against the snare's barrier. It was time to find out just how hungry his reluctant charge was.

"Take two steps back," Abraham commanded, his voice holding held an amused undercurrent. "And sit."

When the vampire did not move, Abraham stood, rolling the bottle between his hands as he smiled politely. "If you want fed, you are going to earn it. Think of it as a game, hm? I tell you to do something simple, you do it, and get rewarded."

Dracula's eyes narrowed, a look of dark, seething hatred flashing over his features for only a moment. Then it was gone, hidden deep within as the vampire adopted a countenance of complete boredom. Much to Abraham's relief, the creature slipped back from the barrier, taking two steps before sliding to sit on his haunches. Flickering red eyes watched him expectantly, waiting for the promised reward.

"Good boy," Abraham nodded, though did not offer the bottle just yet. He only brought two with him, and wanted to see how long Dracula would play. "Lie on your stomach."

A snarl broke through the mask of indifference as the vampire shot to his feet, hair bristling like that of a wild dog. "I will not be your toy," he snapped. "Give it to me or leave me in peace!"

Sighing, Abraham half turned, placing the bottle on his desk with a shake of his head. "You misunderstand the rules. You do what I tell you until I am satisfied. Only then do you get your meal. Lie on your stomach."

They locked glares, neither breaking away. Abraham could feel the feather light touches tickling across his mind. Dracula was feeling at the mental barriers, yet would find himself as trapped from the man's thoughts as he was within his own prison. The creature finally smirked, half tilting his head, eyes narrowing as he leaned against the invisible wall which separated them.

"I will never lie prostrate before you," Dracula snarled, turning on a heel to stride across his circle and sit with his back facing the man.

Abraham sighed, likewise turning to settle himself once more at his desk. He knew breaking this demon would take considerable patience and time. What he did not consider was Dracula's own tenacity. If imminent starvation would not bend the vampire's will, he would need to try a different strategy.

Cold pig's blood was obviously not going to sway Dracula's will. He doubted if the creature had ever even fed on animals if not forced to. He would have to make the prize worth what he was asking. Sliding open a drawer, Abraham withdrew one of several ceremonial knives he had relocated to this new study. Testing the edge against his finger, he deemed it sharp enough. Gritting his teeth, he slid the blade along his palm, letting a few drops drip to his desk surface.

He could hear movement behind him, yet pretended to ignore the obstinate creature. Pulling the container of pig's blood closer, he raised his hand over the opening, watching fat drops of his own blood swirl into the sickening drink.

A loud hiss behind him almost caused him to jump. Abraham only half turned to witness Dracula's frantic pacing back and forth, eyes flashing a bright red. "No!" the creature snapped. "Don't mix it!"

Abraham could not hide a smirk as it crept over his lips. He'd found a chink in that armor, and the weapon flowed through his own veins. "Then lie down," he stated simply.

Dracula's irritable pacing faltered for only a moment, the creature pausing to glare hatefully toward his captor. For a moment, Abraham believed the vampire would still refuse to obey. Dracula took one step backward, eyes still locked onto Abraham's injured hand dripping into the jar of pig swill, he lowered himself to the floor, stretching out upon his stomach.

"See? Now how difficult was that?" Abraham chided, shifting his hand to an empty cup he had used for his tea earlier that evening, letting the wound finish it's bleeding in a slightly fresher container. 

OoOoO

She had to get out of the house, escape and find some other way to occupy her mind from the infection seeping through her bones and thoughts. Mina spent the day exploring the city, letting the sights and sounds envelop her senses. He had not appeared to her last night, nor was there any strangeness about her day now. She could only hope Dracula would forget about her and find some other way to further his schemes. 

During her walk through the more lively areas of the city, Mina happened upon an old friend from some years ago. The two lunched together at a local cafe, catching up on time lost. It was Mina's idea to bring the friend back to her and Jonathan's new home in a rural area of the city countryside. They took a carriage together, giggling and talking for most of the ride. 

Life felt normal again, as if Dracula had been nothing more than a bad dream and sucked into whatever hell Abraham had designed for the monster. For the first time in months, Mina was enjoying herself, feeling comfortable as she sat in the sun room of her home, enjoying a cozy afternoon of tea with an old friend. For those blissful hours, she forgot the all too recent nightmare. 

"Dear Mina," her friend, Rose, began as she set an empty saucer to the side. "You really should come visit me. My son has moved me into a most delightful little apartment inside the city. You'd love it. I dare say it looks much like your old home back in London."

Mina smiled, leaning back on the cushions of her chair as she watched Rose slide hands over her skirt to ease out any wrinkles. "I'll have to make a note of that, yes. I would certainly love to visit you some time. Please, leave your address."

Rose stood and gave the other woman a nod. "I certainly will. We should meet next week again and have a lunch out. I don't believe we could catch up on all we've missed of each other's lives so quickly. I'm not going to let you run off again." Wagging a finger, Rose smiled, giving Mina a quick hug when the other finally stood.

Seeing her to the door, Mina bid her friend a good evening, seeing her safely off in a carriage. With a soft sigh, she closed the front door, turning back and smiling to the house maid bustling about to light candles as the sun set. 

"I haven't seen a glow quite like that in your cheeks for some time, Miss," the older woman commented as she passed by with a smile. "Good to see you getting the better of your sickness."

"Indeed," Mina replied, returning to the sitting room and resting herself upon a couch. 

She looked up as Jonathan entered, a smile also on his face. "Enjoy catching up with friends?" he questioned. "It's good seeing you get out and have a life again."

Laughing, Mina patted the empty seat next to her. "I didn't think I'd ever have much of a life again, my love."

You were wise in that thought. Then again, I always did admire how clever you were.

Mina's laugh caught in her throat as she looked up, her husband pausing at her expression of horror. Behind him, Mina could see Jonathan's reflection in a wall mirror. Behind him stood Dracula in full glory. Nodding a head to her, the vampire sneered, reaching around the reflection of her husband and tearing his neck open. Blood sprayed from the image as the body crumbled, leaving the vampire spattered in red and laughing inside her head. 

Screaming, she covered her face, jumping from the couch in an effort to blindly escape the scene which continued to play within her mind. Arms wrapped around her and she fought them, continuing to scream as she imagined the vampire coming for her once again. 

"Let go of me you monster!" she shrieked. 

"Wilhelmina! It's me! It's John." He held her tight as she finally realized it was her love's arms which held and protected her. "What's going on? What's wrong?"

She gripped at his shirt, burying her face against his chest as they both sank to sit on the floor. "He's not gone," she whispered, voice cracking. "Abraham took him away, but Dracula never let me go."

Jonathan Harker did not need to ask who she was referring to, his own expression becoming dark. "Shh," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. "He can't hurt you. It's just nightmares and memories."

"No!" she shook her head, sitting up and looking at him, her eyes wide and hard. "They are not memories. He's been talking to me in my dreams. I see him in mirrors. I hear his voice in my head. It's like Abraham's work did nothing at all. Dracula is still connected to me."

Jonathan's frown darkened as he took in what she was saying. "I can't believe this," he whispered. "Abraham said that creature would never trouble us again. Does he even know?"

Mina shook her head. "No, I don't believe so. If he did, surely he wouldn't be allowing this to go on?"

"Then it's time he was made aware. I will not allow that damned monster to continue tormenting you. I'll cut its head off myself if I have to."

Oh, Mina. It was his voice again, whispering like a breeze through tall grass. How you have betrayed me. Very well. Send your knight to feed the dragon. I will relish this kill.

OoOoO

Tonight had been something of a success. Dracula's following simple commands for a reward only further solidified Abraham's belief that the beast could be tamed and trained for the greater good.

"Lord give me strength," Abraham whispered in a silent prayer as he dropped himself into a comfortable chair by the library fire. Playing games with the vampire while it was trapped inside a barrier was all well and good, but he needed something a bit more permanent and controlling. The moment he opened the cage door, Dracula would attack, no matter how obedient within the circle he behaved.

He mused on the different theories, absently rubbing the now bandaged laceration across his palm. Abraham refused to believe there was no solution. One was there, he only needed to discover it. Vampires were animals, much of their behavior streamed from instinct and reinforcement. Those that lived in packs acted in similar manners to wolves, there was an alpha, a leader whom all the others obeyed.

Abraham leaned back in his chair, half closing his eyes as he watched the fire. True, vampires bowed before the stronger and more cunning, the elders of their species. But what made them behave so? Older vampires bit and turned humans, and the fledgling vampire obeyed their creator. There was an instinct there, a compulsion to obey their creators, the master vampire.

Did Dracula have this same instinct? That was a question nagging within Abraham's thoughts. If Dracula was a first of his species, there was nothing before him, no master vampire to create him. Surely whatever demon created the vampire would have some control over its creation. Abraham closed his eyes, musing on any number of possibilities. He would need to give Dracula a compulsion to obey his command. To do that, he needed to perform a bit more research. It was the best lead he had so far. 

OoOoO

Arthur could hear the sounds of his mother sobbing through the thick doors. His fingers were tight as they gripped at a platter of tea he had brought for her. Abraham had asked him to look after her this morning, telling him she had been aloof and seemed to be declining as of late. The boy knew his father would be at Elizabeth's side every moment he could to help her through the mental sickness, but there was the more pressing issue of darkness writhing beneath their feet.

He hated to see his mother cry, feeling powerless to solve any of her problems or even understand where she was coming up with them. Elizabeth lived in a different reality, seeing and hearing things that were not there. Arthur wanted to voice to his father and explain it couldn't be healthy to have her in the same home with the demon, but felt it wasn't his place. 

Supporting both his parents was his job, he needed to be something they could both count on whatever their endeavors, dreams, or problems. That was his job as their son. Gathering himself, Arthur knocked lightly on the door. He listened to her sobs quiet, and imagined her wiping her face in an effort to make herself a bit presentable.

"Come in," she whispered in a rough voice. 

"Mother?" Arthur called as he stepped through the door. He didn't look directly at her, not wanting to embarrass her, and instead acted as if he had not noticed she were crying at all. "I brought you some of your favorite tea!" Looking up, he gave her a sad smile. 

She nodded, hiding her face in a white handkerchief. "Where is your father?" she asked. 

Arthur frowned, placing the tray on a small table beside her. It was such a strange question for her to ask. "He's upstairs I think, working on the books for the house staff. He hasn't found a steward he likes yet. Mother, what's wrong?"

Elizabeth gasped a sob, hiding her face in her hands and turning away from him as he reached out to comfort her. Abraham had always been here when his mother was in such a state, and Arthur felt helpless to ease whatever suffering tormented her. 

"I'm too damaged," she whispered into her hands. "He doesn't love me anymore."

Arthur caught his breath, unsure of how to handle her. "Who? Father? Of course he does. You're all he cares about in the world." Except for the monster below. "Mother, you can't believe that." He placed a hand on her shoulder, rubbing softly. She reached up, grasping at his arm and pulling him into a hug.

"No, I've seen him. He leaves me every night. I followed him last night." Arthur felt his breath catch in his throat as she said those words. "He has been going into the basement and locking the door behind him. That's how he goes to see her, sneaking through some tunnel to leave without being seen."

Knowing he must think quickly, Arthur laid his head against hers. "No mother, that's not it at all," he whispered. 

"What is it then?" her voice rose, just shy of a yell. "What could he possibly be doing running off like that every night. I always wake up alone, he's never here."

"It's a dog," Arthur objected, gritting his teeth even as he said the words. Straightening, he nodded as he squeezed her hand. "Father found a dog in the woods when we first moved here. It's some kind of wolf mix. It's a project of his. I think he's trying to train it to protect the house while he's away." 

Elizabeth looked at him, confused by his words. The tears stopped but he felt his heart wrench at the pathetic state of her face. Red and blotchy, eyes glistening as if she'd been sobbing for hours. "A dog?"

Nodding, Arthur crouched before her, wanting to do anything he could to ease her pain. "Yes. It's just a dog."

She gasped, bringing a hand to her mouth as she looked down, closing her eyes. Her breathing was sporadic, the quick gasps and hiccups that came hand in hand with such tears of sorrow. He sat with her as she composed herself, taking several moments. Arthur squeezed her hand reassuringly, his heart stopping when her eyes opened and settled on him. There was a sanity in her gaze, something which had not been so clear for years.

"I want to see it," she stated in a hard, determined voice.


	6. Dread

"Of course I am afraid. What sane man is not?" ~Luciano Pavarotti

Arthur gazed at his mother with wide eyes. He should have come up with a better lie, thought a better reply. He could not allow his mother into the depths of the lower levels. The monster his father had trapped there would terrorize her already frayed mind. If that thing had ever managed to escape again Arthur had no doubt his mother would be one of the first to be destroyed.

"No, Mother," he stuttered in reply, his heart hammering against his chest. "Father keeps all the doors locked and he has the only key. He's the only one who can get in." It was only a partial lie. Arthur had no intentions of returning to the lowers, even if Abraham promised him that the monster was bound up like a rabid beast.

"Please don't do this," he gasped, tears pooling in his blue eyes. "Mother please don't do this. You're just paranoid. I promise you, I've seen the beast. It's crazed and tries to attack. It's the reason I'm hurt. Remember when I showed you the punctures and cuts on my shoulder? I don't want you to get hurt, just let father deal with the thing."

Elizabeth gazed at her son, feeling betrayal well within her heart. He'd been corrupted as well, probably more loyal to his father than to her. She would have to get her answers on her own. Whatever Abraham was up to, all his sneaking about. She would find out about it, one way or another. Forcing a smile onto her lips, she cupped Arthur's face in her hands, pressing a kiss onto his forehead.

"I will give him time then," she whispered softly. "I still want to see this dog of his, but I will let him have a chance to make it safe. Okay?"

Almost panicking, Arthur nodded, reaching up to squeeze his mother's hand. "Thank you, Mother. Everything will be okay, I promise. Father will not let anything happen to you and he would never do anything to hurt you."

She only nodded, that same strange smile upon her face. "Run and go play, William. I have a bit of reading I'd like to do."

Heart breaking, Arthur nodded, slipping out of the room. He felt confident that he had detoured his mother away from anything too rash, but eventually this matter would have to be brought to her as well.

OoOoO

Year: 1894

Dracula watched with half lidded eyes as the human paced back and forth, muttering to himself over some half rotten book. It had been thus every night for some days, the evidence scattered upon the floor in the form of torn pages or discarded books which proved to be of no use to Abraham's goal. Rarely did Abraham address him in these days, instead enjoying a short game with a bit of blood as motivation then diving into his experiments for the remaining hours.

"If what you are attempting to accomplish has never before been done, exactly what help do you hope to find in books as old as I?" The vampire shifted upon the floor, rising from a relaxed position upon his back to sit upright with a bored yawn.

"Silence," Abraham growled, never lifting his eyes from the tome as he waved a dismissive hand toward his prisoner and returned to the lone seating within the room.

Smirking, Dracula rose to his feet, walking a slow circle around his prison, a loud sigh resonating from his maw. "You've not made any progress of yet, have you? Still searching for lies in books that crumble at your touch. Sooner or later you will make a mistake, Hunter."

Abraham grit his teeth, resting his forehead within his palm as he glared down at the pages, trying to make sense of what a three hundred year old monk had been explaining. The vampire did not often speak, which was for the better as the current moment suggested.

"Be silent, I told you," Abraham barked over his shoulder, though still did not offer a glance to the monster. "Persist and you will find yourself very uncomfortable."

"Oh?" Dracula approached the circle's center, arms crossed over a haggard chest as he observed his surroundings. "Exactly how will you do that? Refuse to feed me until I roll over and bark?"

Lifting his head at last, Abraham turned and leveled an icy gaze upon the monster, narrowing his eyes at the triumphant smirk which spread itself across the fanged maw.

"It has crossed my mind," the man growled.

Abraham rose from his seat, leaving the book which had been his focus for the better part of an hour in exchange for several loose pages decorated with his own notes and designs.

"Since you are so eager to be interactive tonight, perhaps it is time to test a few of my theories." Abraham approached the circle, feeling the pressure in the air intensify as he stepped so close to the vampire's prison. Locating a bit of chalk from his pocket, he moved around the circle, observing the outline for the perfect point in which he could begin an etching.

Dracula watched, quiet now, his own form turning slowly to keep the professor within his sight. "What exactly do you hope to accomplish?"

"If it works, you'll find out." He crouched a bare foot beyond the circle's edge, gripping a few pages in one hand and a stick of chalk in the other. For several moments he observed the crude sketches upon his pages, remembering the meaning of each one within the books he had found and hoping they would all work together.

He ignored the creature as he began to copy the symbols around the circle, moving slowly to make sure each one was done correctly as he scraped the chalk over smoothed stone. His ultimate goal was now to give Dracula the compulsion to obey his commands. How exactly he would accomplish that he had to discover through experimentation. This was a rigged game, however, as Dracula could feign obedience until he was beyond the circle.

However, Abraham was confident he was at least on the right track. He ignored Dracula as the demon slowly followed his movements around the circle. Abraham also noticed how the vampire walked on its toes, and carefully avoided the silver lines forming the inner workings of his prison upon the floor. The creature made no sound as it moved, so very close to the man he desperately wanted to kill. Abraham couldn't help but smile to himself, glancing at the pages in his hand as he continued to sketch slowly the more intricate lines. He worked around the entire outer circle of the snare, finally standing once he was done.

This would definitely require his blood. If the spell worked, then any demon within the cell would feel the compulsion, a nagging sensation, to obey the commands of the one whose blood fed the magic. More than a little excited for this experiment, Abraham replaced the pages upon his desk and took up a small knife from a drawer to the desk. A small prick to his finger, he let a single drop fall onto the markings, careful to not smudge the chalk.

Dracula flinched as the scent of Abraham's blood tickled over his senses. He'd been moving around in his prison to observe the new symbols. Many were unknown to him but a few did seem familiar though he could not remember their exact purpose. Turning from his curiosity, he absently hoped for another game for the man's blood. Abraham was watching him carefully, bleeding wound now wrapped in cloth.

"Sit." The command was so blunt, tone almost harsh as if he expected disobedience. He really shouldn't have expected anything more.

The vampire glared at him, realizing he would not be offered any blood for this game. Whatever the human had been trying to do... Dracula felt it then, a sort of nagging in the back of his mind to obey. Narrowing his eyes, he hid any sensation of the feeling from Abraham. Like a mosquito buzzing in his ear, Dracula felt that tug to obey, to sit. But the pull was weak, and easily quashed beneath his own power.

He waited several seconds, his smirk growing. "And if I do not?"

Abraham's disappointment was clear. The man turned without another word and settled himself back at the desk, resting his forehead in his palm. Another failure. How many more would he have to endure? There was a soft tsking over his shoulder, and Abraham suppressed the urge to draw his weapon and fire on the creature.

"A pity. Do not let that lovely will of yours shatter before I get a chance to rend it myself, Abraham."

Lifting his head, the human half turned to his captive, a dark smirk of his own thinning his lips. "Oh, do not despair, my vampire. It is not my will that will break."

Dracula only grinned in return, thin arms crossed over his scrawny frame. So it was a battle of wills now. He would gladly accept the challenge.

OoOoO

The key felt cold and far heavier than it looked in her hand. There were three spares Abraham had made and kept them hidden through the house just in case. One of those keys she'd found tucked away within his Bible. An effective hiding place, but a very predictable one for her husband. Elizabeth stood at the doorway of the basement, inserting the key and turning it slowly. Abraham had retreated upstairs some hours ago, and would probably sleep for a time.

She looked over her shoulder as the lock clicked, feeling certain someone must have heard. Her paranoia was muted now, however, with the hope she would find answers in the darkness below. Crouching, Elizabeth took up a lantern she had brought with her, keeping the wick long and the light bright as she descended the long steps. It felt cold here, and she clutched at her night gown, wondering she should have brought something thicker.

It was too late, now, however, and she knew this. She needed to find out what Abraham was up to or she would never gain a peaceful night of sleep again. If he was cheating on her, so be it, but if there was something else, if what Arthur told her was true and he was indeed training some kind of feral animal then at least her fears would no longer bother her.

This was something that needed to be done for her own health. Her insanity would not let her continue on without knowing the truth.


	7. Mistakes

“Good judgment comes from experience, and experience comes from bad judgment.” ~ Rita Mae Brown

He'd awoken nearly an hour after dawn, feeling tired and worn from all the late nights he had been working. Dracula was taxing his energy, and he'd been constantly cutting his own veins to gain sample blood for spells or to bribe the demon into obeying whatever small command he had been making. Not even a bowl full of his own blood, hot and steaming, had been able to tempt the vampire into kneeling to him. Dracula was increasingly belligerent, beginning to become almost feral in his responses and actions. Abraham suspected it was all a ruse, but he could not know for sure. This was the first vampire to have ever been captured for the purpose of study. A great victory of man.

Even if he was forever unable to control the creature, Abraham admitted to himself that just having it caged and available for study was enough of a victory in itself to make him feel great pride. Within the snare, Dracula was completely at his mercy. The monster was unable to hunt or care for itself, and the myriad of unholy powers it possessed were rendered completely useless within the circle. It was currently nothing more than a trapped animal at his mercy and whims.

The behavior of vampires was a complete mystery to most hunters. No one really understood exactly why they behaved the way they did, or what behaviors outside of hunting they displayed. They were able to copy human actions and culture in order to blend into society for short periods of time, though humans knew so little of vampire society. Now, he had a perfect specimen, and one that was, for lack of a better term, royalty among the species.

Abraham tapped a finger over the pages spread across the desk before him. Symbols with deep explanations of their workings decorated each page. Other papers displayed various different interlocking designs he had pieced together to make a larger symbol meant to combine the effects.

Even as he admitted the great victory of capturing Dracula to himself, Abraham could still not shake the feeling of failure. He'd worked so hard to design the new layer in hopes it would give the vampire the compulsion to obey but it had been nothing but a disappointment. Dracula was consonantly uncooperative. If he could bring the demon under control, or to at least put it in a position where he could interact with it without the threat of attack he felt certain that like any animal, the vampire could be trained.

Closing his eyes, Abraham drew his mind away from the obsession that had been clouding it these past days. Elizabeth had not been in the bedroom when he had woke that morning, but she had a habit of wandering away to read or enjoy the sunlight, and it was certainly a beautiful day. Arthur had mentioned she had been stressed and thus Abraham had made a bit of an effort to make her feel more at home on the estate. He'd bought horses and brought in staff. Everything was beginning to fall into place. He made a mental note to spend one of these lovely days with his wife on horseback through the back forest trails. She had always so loved nature.

A knock on his study door pulled him from his thoughts, and Abraham pushed himself to his feet, hand sweeping across the desk to hide his papers beneath more mundane books.

"Coming," he called, striding forward and opening the door.

One of his new staff, a maid, bowed her head to him. "A Dr. Seward is here to see you, my Lord. Shall I send him in?"

Slightly stunned at the sudden visit of his friend, Abraham nodded. "Yes, yes! Send him in."

Turning from the maid, Abraham stood near one of the room's windows, feeling the warmth caressing his skin. He needed to get out of the manor for a few hours. Perhaps take a walk. All this time in the dungeon with the demon could not be very good for his health! At the sound of footsteps behind him, Abraham turned with a delighted grin over his features, rather pleased for the human company.

However, the expression on John's face melted his joy. Seward looked worried, tugging at his gloves and nodding curtly to Abraham.

"I am sorry for the sudden and rather unannounced appearance, Abraham." Seward sighed, looking at him imploringly. "I don't have much time. One of my patients could use your help I think."

Abraham blinked at that, his own frown deepening. Seward was head of an asylum. What exactly could those patients of his have anything to do with him? Surely he could not have any more troubles of the supernatural nature this soon.

"Of course, I will help you with whatever you need, old friend. Please sit and I will have some fresh tea brought."

Seward shook his head, lifting a hand to bring Abraham to pause. "I'm afraid it is a rather urgent matter. I am sorry, I can't take the time to sit and discuss. Please, I need you to join me. The ride is half a day, and we should move quickly. I do not know how long he will last. I can fill you in on all the details as we go."

At those words, Abraham stiffened. He did not like the idea of leaving the grounds for too long a period. Dracula may be contained but he above all others knew how crafty the beast could be. Gritting his teeth, the man thought for a moment before nodding. "Alright. If it is that important and you think I could be of some help I will join you. Give me a moment to inform the household and I'll meet you in the drive."

OoOoO

"I'm not entirely sure how long I will be gone, but I will most certainly return tomorrow afternoon." Abraham looked down at his son as he packed a few important items. "Make sure the lowers door stays locked. I am taking the key with me, and I do not think I need to stress how much I need you to look out for your mother. See if you can take her out for a picknick this afternoon. I'm sure she would enjoy both the company and the stimulation of bright sunlight and singing birds."

Arthur nodded, feeling the sudden weight of responsibility on his shoulders. Not only had Father trusted him to guard the secret of the demon below but he was also now entrusting the entire estate and the wellbeing of his mother to him.

"Are you sure it won't get out while you are away, Father?" There was more a worried tremble in his voice than he had expected. He wanted to be strong for his father, but the near death experience below had left a deeper scar than he cared to admit. The wound on his shoulder had healed with no threat of becoming infected. Abraham had taken special care to make sure everything had been cleaned daily and gave him a lecture on how filthy the creature had probably been.

It had been the sight of his father standing up to the creature, of watching the demon lunge toward Abraham's throat with a sort of feral, enraged glee. Nightmares still woke him in a cold sweat at night, fearing the monster would be standing over him and ready for a fresh kill. Arthur had not told his father of these, trying to stay strong for the man even with the horror of what had occurred.

Abraham snapped his bag closed, turning to rest a hand on the boy's shoulder. "He cannot escape, not unless I let him out. He's trapped in that circle and locked in a room. The lowers are locked and I'm the only one with a key. You're safe here, son. Try not to think about him. Instead, think about your mother. She needs some soothing and support from both of us."

Arthur nodded, swallowing hard as he followed his father to the top of the steps. "Please hurry home!" he called, waving as the grand doors of the manor closed. He did not move from the top step until he'd heard the carriage carry the men away. Dr. Seward had said something about a sick patient, one that father's wealth of knowledge might be able to help and had mentioned it being terribly important. His father, always a hero, would not refuse to help another human being.

Alone now, Arthur trotted down the steps, hand gliding across the railing with a smile slowly tugging at his lips. A picknick in the fields, beneath open sky, was exactly what his mother needed. Watching a maid bustle by, cleaning the various shelves and decorations now lining the walls, Arthur cleared his throat.

"Have you see mother?" he asked, hoping he wouldn't have to hunt too hard for her. It was a beautiful day and he'd rather spend it outside than hunting her down for hours. Though she did have a tendency to vanish unexpectedly.

"No, young Sir. I haven't seen her today." The maid inclined her head, then returned to her cleaning.

So it would be a hunt for his mother then. Arthur trotted for the kitchens, hoping to get some of the staff there to assemble a lunch basket for him and his mother. Out of a nagging curiosity, he stepped past the near hidden door to the lowers, freezing mid step. Cold water flushed his veins, and Arthur knew panic had gripped his young frame. His gut twisted in a sharp knot that threatened to send him to his knees, and his throat closed as his breathing increased.

The door was open, just slightly. A bare inch of the darkness showed beyond. Abraham had said the door was closed and locked, but somehow either someone had gotten in or the creature had escaped. If the beast was out, surely they would know by now. There would be screaming and death, horrors everywhere, which could only mean one thing.

"No, mother," he whispered to himself. "What have you done?"

Arthur bolted inside, shutting the door firmly behind him. He knew that just inside there would be spare lanterns and matches hanging on the wall. Feeling around, he snatched one from its hook, striking a light and watching the flame take hold of the wick.

"Mother!" he called, listening to his voice echo from the darkness. Hearing no reply save his own voice, the boy dove into the hell he had sworn to himself and promised his father he would never enter again.

OoOoO

She could hear his voice in her head, William's, singing softly as he skipped along the stones just out of her sight. Elizabeth had spotted him grinning and waving at her in a different corridor, and she followed, shouting his name and for him to stop and come back to her. He was just playing another one of his games, calling for her to come and look for him, to find him and bring him a hug of victory.

Elizabeth did not even notice how cold she was, how the chill air had soaked through her bones and her bare feet scraped bloody across the rougher stone on the flooring.

"William! Wait!" She gasped, watching him turn and grin from just ahead then duck into a room.

She had him now! That was how he always lost these games, cornering himself in a place he couldn't escape from. As a mother, she knew he did this on purpose, letting her catch him so he could get his hug and kiss with a ruffle of shaggy blonde curls.

Pressing a shoulder against the door, she couldn't help but laugh as well, hearing his giggling just inside. He was trying to hide, but couldn't silence himself. Such a silly boy. A drop of sweat began to bead along her forehead, trickling over her face as she panted.

"I have you now, you silly boy! Just wait until Mother gets her hands on you. I'll never let you go again!"

The door was so hard to open. She wasn't sure if it was just stuck or heavy. How William had opened it completely baffled her, but she didn't think too hard on such a silly note. Her son, lost for so long, was just inside. Finally slamming her shoulder into the steel door a final time, it opened with a slow, anguished creek.

A grin spread over her face as she stepped inside, breathing still laboring from her chase. Her mind did not even consider where she was, or that she was possibly now very lost in the maze of doors and hallways. All she understood was that mere meters from her, near the center of the room, stood William. He grinned back at her, holding his arms up as he waited expectantly for his hug.

"Mother!" His voice was so sharp and clear. This was no hallucination! This was her boy! "You found me, Mother!"

So this was what Abraham had been hiding all these days, the sneaking about and disappearing in the dead of night for hours on end. It had been William! Somehow, Abraham had brought her boy back as beautiful as he had been the day he vanished so many years ago. Breath catching in her throat, Elizabeth bit her bottom lip and choked a sob.

"Mother has you now, sweetheart," she whispered, rushing forward and enveloping the small boy in her arms. "She will never let go of you again!"

William nestled against her, arms wrapping around her shoulders in a healthy, tight grip. "I know you won't," he whispered softly into the fabric of her gown. "I'll never let you go either. We'll always be together."

Too far gone, too deeply wrapped in her madness and the vampire's grip on her shattered mind, Elizabeth did not even notice as the boy's lips peeled back. She did not feel the icy nails of his fangs sink into her throat. A blissful end awaited her, strangely peaceful, for she was with her son.

OoOoO

Dread thickened within his chest as he continued to move through the passages, hoping he was wrong and this was all just a terrifying mistake. Arthur knew the general locations of the vampire's prison, and for the second time that afternoon, his blood froze within his veins. The door was wide open, and he was very certain his father would never leave it such. There was no sound within, and Arthur felt paralyzed, frozen to the floor and unable to move.

"Mother?" he asked quietly, calling through the darkness to the open door. Surely if she had entered and seen the monster she would leave as quickly as any man! Nothing about that thing's appearance was remotely natural.

"Mother, if you're in there, please answer me." There was no sound, not even a shuffle or shift of cloth.

Gritting his teeth, gut knotted in fear, the boy raised his lantern high and stepped forward through the open doorway. He could not see the creature at first, the light dancing just out of reach, but he saw a large shadowy lump within the circle. Arthur had no intentions of speaking to the monster, but stepped forward to let the light wash across the form.

The demon, Alucard it had told him its name was, rested on its knees, spine curved as it arched over something. The thing did not even seem to notice he had entered the room, too focused on the limp frame clutched within its claws. Arthur nearly dropped his lantern, a violent tremor quaking across his frame. He recognized his mother's shape, her favorite sleeping gown, and the long, blonde hair which had fallen limply to the side.

Alucard raised his head, blood staining his lips and teeth as his face peeled into a wicked, fierce grin. A seething, hissing snarl bubbled from the beast's throat, brightly glowing eyes locking onto him, and Arthur lost his nerve, turning to run as quickly as his legs could carry him. He knew the way back to the upper levels and still made several wrong turns in the darkness, his tear filled eyes blurring everything around him into a lump of shifting color.

Father was the only one who could defeat that monster, and he wasn't on the grounds! Abraham said he would be back but it could be as late as tomorrow afternoon! No one on the estate even knew of the creature. Arthur knew he couldn't fight the thing, and even then...

It was too late for his mother.

OoOoO

Hot blood roared through his veins, feeding strength and vitality into his withered muscles. It had been so long, months, since he had felt flesh part beneath his fangs and the frothy rush of blood across his lips. Dracula drank deeply, taking every drop he could with almost primal need. He'd been fed only teasing sips of Abraham's blood, his main diet that of whatever animals Abraham could procure without appearing too noticeable to the cultured masses.

Abraham's lovely wife, Elizabeth Helsing, was long dead in his arms. She looked the part of a procline doll to be placed on the shelf and posed for beauty. It was a shame she would rot rather quickly once his venom saturated her muscles and transformed her into a ghoul. The vampire resisted ripping her into fist sized chunks to decorate the room for Abraham's viewing pleasure. 

It was so sweet, vengeance from within the bars of a prison, when no one thought him any more dangerous than a mouse caught in a trap. Abraham would learn too late exactly the type of danger he was dealing with. There would be no bargaining for his wife's safety, for she would be long ghoul by the time the human arrived. Arthur had interrupted briefly, but too late. 

Dracula expected Abraham to rush into the room mere minutes after the boy had run screaming and choking on sobs, but the minutes ticked into hours. The only explanation he could gather was the man has taken the day away. Dracula tossed the limp body far from the invisible walls of his prison, jagged teeth grinding together as his lips stretched into a wide grin. It only took a few hours for a bitten, infected corpse to ghoul. Once that happened, he would have a weapon under his control that was not limited to the cursed snare.


	8. Revenge

“I will hurt you for this. I don't know how yet, but give me time. A day will come when you think yourself safe and happy, and suddenly your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth, and you'll know the debt is paid.”   
~George R.R. Martin, A Clash of Kings 

OoOoO

Dracula had settled himself at the center of his prison, the only area he could easily sit in a comfortable position without worrying about the silver lines etched into the floor connecting with any unclothed portions of flesh. He rested with his eyes closed, spidery limbs draping across his legs, his head tilted forward to allow long tresses of now ebon hair to hang in a veil over his eyes. Human blood sang through his veins, pumping strength into his muscles and rejuvenating his starved, withered form. He could have eaten a small town, but the blood of his enemy's loved one brought such a wonderful tangy sweetness nothing could have matched. 

Abraham's wife, Elizabeth, or rather her ghoul, stood near the doorway, still as death. Her empty eyes stared straight ahead, and a thin line of saliva dripped lazily from her hanging jaw. Dracula cracked his eyes, head rising slowly to observe his new weapon as it watched the door dumbly. Elizabeth's being, her soul, screamed within him, another life swimming in the innumerable that he claimed. What a sweet voice she possessed, and what wonderful knowledge she had gifted him. Even if Abraham were to wrestle his way free this time, by some miracle, Dracula knew the soul of his wife would be a weapon forever to be wielded against the man.

Such was the fate of any unfortunate enough to meet their end upon his fangs. Only one had ever survived to escape death, and Mina's soul was still his, even if it currently resided within her body. He could still feel her, could still connect with her mind even with the great distance stretching between them. She was his child, in some twisted sense, though she would never become a nosferatu. Abraham had prevented that much and she had since had children. However, Dracula knew these technicalities did would change nothing, no matter how clever Abraham had been. Mina was his, as was the human's wife. 

The vampire shifted, sliding long fingers into a pocket of his ragged clothing, and withdrawing a small key. He turned the metal over in his hand, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. Elizabeth had used this key to enter the lower levels. Dracula knew he could not open the door, key or no. Not with the spell work Abraham had performed on the doorway. However, he knew someone within his power who could.

Returning the key to his pocket, Dracula shifted to rest his wrists upon his knees, upper body bent slightly to a comfortable resting position. Closing his eyes once more, with his ghoul guarding the doorway, he grasped that mental connection with Mina and stepped through the distance to her awareness.

OoOoO

Arthur ran, leaving the estate far behind as he tore a wild path through the forest. He couldn't see the trees or brush before him, letting limbs and thorns tear at his skin and clothing. Tears continued to stream from his eyes, throat tight in choking sobs. All he could see was the slack face of his mother as the monster raised its head from her throat, the gaping wounds dry of blood and showing only dead grey skin and raw meat. 

She was dead. His mother, a woman who wouldn't have hurt anyone and who needed protecting more than anyo in the house, dead. Abraham had left him in charge, had left him to care for her, and he'd failed. Something grabbed his foot, sending him face first into a pile of rotting leaves. No longer with the strength to run, Arthur lay still, letting sobs roll from his shaking form. 

His father was the only one who could have any hope of defeating that monster, and he was not on the grounds, nowhere to be found. But Arthur knew the general area of Seward's asylum. With shaking arms, he pushed himself to his feet, feeling weariness quivering through his muscles and thin streams of blood mixing with sweat to stick his torn clothes against his skin. 

It was all his fault, there was no other explanation. He had made a deal with that beast, that he would show it the way out and it wouldn't hurt anyone. Never make a deal with demons, that was something his father had taught him from the moment he was old enough to attend church. Arthur knew it was his fault, he had struck a deal and gone against it. Alucard had taken his mother as payment for that debt.

He had no idea if anyone from the manor had seen him flee. The entrance to the lowers would not lock behind him, and he knew anyone could step into that hell now. In order to save the rest of his home he had to find his father and beg him to put that beast down. It was too late for his mother, and Arthur knew there would be a reckoning for what had happened. 

Elizabeth, his mother. Dead. 

Pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, Arthur fought another wave of sobbing. Revenge boiled in his chest. His father would know how to hurt the thing, how to kill it for good. 

OoOoO

Abraham stepped to the side, just finishing a short lecture about a particularly nasty African worm that had taken up residence in the subject's brain. It was unfortunate the man had not survived, but it allowed him a perfect opportunity to teach both his former student Seward, and a handful of other doctors present at the asylum about the parasite. He understood very quickly why John had specifically requested him and so quickly. Abraham was one of the most learned men on exotic diseases in the area. 

He ordered Seward to have the body burned to avoid the worm's spread, though he doubted the creatures would be causing any more trouble. They had apparently died once the man had. 

As he dried his hands, Abraham turned to see Seward approaching, the man's eyes trailing after his staff while they wheeled the deceased patient to be cremated. 

"Thank you for coming at such short and sudden notice, Bram. I had a terrible feeling about this particular case from the moment he had arrived." Seward turned, his eyes regarding Abraham. "Of course I did not realize the full extent, however his insanity was something I had not quite seen before. He would get worse rather quickly and I could find no real cause."

Abraham waved a dismissive hand at his friend, tossing his cloth back to the table. "It was a welcome distraction, albeit a bit of a morbid one. I enjoyed the change of focus." 

With a nod, Seward rested a hand on the larger man's shoulder. "How are things progressing? Have you had any success?"

"Not as of yet," Abraham sighed, crossing his arms to rest one elbow in his hand as he brushed the fingers of his free hand over his jaw. "But I'm very close, John. I can sense it. I will have that beast under my control very soon."

John stepped away, motioning to several of the remaining men to clean the room as he led the way through the doors. "I pray you will succeed soon, my friend. Once that thing is subdued the rest of us will be able to sleep well." He cast a sidelong glance at Abraham. "Holmwood has worsened, I fear."

"Lord Godalming needs to work through his loss. The only thing I can offer is Dracula, on his knees, the perfect picture of obedience. I only need to complete the puzzle and it will all be in my grasp."

"I fear it will not be enough, but I pray it will." Seward smiled sadly to his friend, an expression that spoke everything between them. Abraham knew Seward did not approve his attempts to control the creature, but history and world changing discoveries were not made by meek men.

Opening his mouth, Abraham formulated a reply when one of Seward's orderlies stepped into the room with an expression of worry etched across his features. "Dr. Seward, Dr. Helsing, please forgive me. The police are in the lobby with a young boy. Something is... I think you should speak to them." 

OoOoO

Dracula had returned, dancing through the edges of her vision, a grinning shade forever watching her from every mirror surface around her. Mina tried to hide her fears from Johnathan, not wanting her husband to worry. They had received a reply letter from Abraham, again confirming the creature was well contained and questioning if Mina's nightmares were from trauma. It had infuriated her husband, who nearly destroyed the letter in anger. She had not seen Dracula for some weeks after the last event, and hoped against hope that perhaps Abraham had somehow managed to curtail the vampire's wandering into her mind. 

All those hopes were dashed into the rocks once she had awoken that morning and saw him standing over her in a reflection in her dresser mirror. 

"So good to see you well, my dearest Mina." The vampire king moved around her, circling her bed in the reflection as Mina looked on with horror etched upon her every feature. 

Slowly, she began to sit up, shaking hands adjusting the blankets around her more comfortably. 

"Why are you here, Count?" she asked, voice soft and meek. He would see through her illusions. The demon always had, yet he seemed to enjoy when she played these games.

Dracula continued to slowly circle her bed before pausing beside her, thin, clawed fingers reaching out to slide through her hair. Mina felt nothing, but could not remove her eyes from the mirror's reflection. She watched as he toyed with her hair, slowly pulling the dark locks away to expose her throat. 

Crouching, the demon pressed his face close to the milky flesh and breathed in. Tearing her eyes from the reflection, Mina threw the blankets away and pushed herself from the bed. 

"Leave me in peace," she hissed to the empty room, her gaze pointedly avoiding the mirrors. 

"Peace? Why would I leave you to this droll little life you've chosen? You are mine, Mina, and I want you with me. Not here playing games with your little family. What was your son's name again?" Dracula's voice echoed through her mind, his accented voice rebounding from within her skull as if he spoke within a large, empty room.

"You will not speak of him," she snapped, her eyes snapping to the mirror only to watch the vampire within the reflection sneer and turn to stride through the doorway of her bedchamber and into the hall. 

Mina felt her heart in her throat, rushing into the hallway and toward her child's room. Some small voice whispered in her mind that Dracula would not be able to harm her son. The vampire was, after all, only in her mind, not her son's. The creature could only to with her mind and make her see or feel things that were not real. Her son was safe. But the louder voice screamed that the demon was able to do more than he let on and there was a chance he could very well harm Devon.

"Ahh, that's it," Dracula's voice mused through her thoughts. "Devon. Devon Harker. How amusing."

She pushed through the nursery doorway, breathing heavily. Devon appeared to be calm, smiling up at the mobile that spun slowly over his head. 

"I think he likes me, my dearest," Dracula purred. 

"Stay away from him!" Mina snapped, eyes finding a mirror and watching as the Count leaned over her son's crib, tickling at the boy with a long, black talon. 

Devon laughed, reaching over his head. Mina watched in horror, unable to believe that her baby could actually see the vampire. 

"That's not possible," she whispered, nearly choking on her words. Could Devon see Dracula? Could her baby somehow see the demon that cooed to him over his head when the figment was only in her own mind?

"Such interesting questions," Dracula chuckled, straightening to look into the mirror and lock eyes with her, his grin stretching inhumanly, like some hunting wolf. "It is almost as if..."

The vampire trailed off, tilting his head and appearing to listen to something only he could hear. "Ahhh, there you are," he growled low in his throat. 

Dracula vanished, as if he had never been there. Mina swallowed, feeling her heart hammer within her chest. She rushed to Devon's crib and gathered the infant into her arms, whispering promises of protection into the boy's ears. Some part of her, however, doubted those words. Could Devon have some connection to the vampire through her? The thought horrified her.

OoOoO

Arthur's words rang within Abraham's ears. 'Mother found Alucard," he had said. To the police, he claimed to have been out riding and fallen off his horse close by. The story was a stretch, but they let it go. Abraham left Arthur with Seward, who were taking a carriage behind him. Abraham's horse left them far behind, voices fading into the distance. 

He had stopped for nothing, not to listen to more of Arthur's stuttering, sobbing words, or the distressed cries of Seward when he had spurred his horse into the night. 

The door to Dracula's cell looked imposing to him, somehow. There were no sounds within, and likely the vampire already knew he was there. The crossbow felt too heavy in his hands, the light tremble of his frame rattling at the mechanism. Elizabeth had not been anywhere in the house, his frantic cries doing nothing but waking the few staff who remained overnight. 

Abraham knew his wife was within, or what was left of her. Dracula would have already killed her, already drained the blood from her frail body and taken her life as his own. Steeling himself, Abraham pushed the iron door open, raising his crossbow into the darkness that waited. 

He could see her eyes first, two glowing points of yellow. The true color of her eyes was gone, milky and lifeless. The demon's control of her body gave her eyes a yellow glow. She lunged from the darkness, arms outstretched with a horrific hissing snarl.

It wasn't her. It wasn't his Elizabeth. The woman was gone, consumed by a demon. This was just a puppet. Abraham pulled the trigger, sending a silver tipped bolt into her skull. The ghoul dropped at his feet, body shuddering. She was too fresh to dust. That, at least, he was thankful for. There was something to bury. 

Abraham crouched over his wife's body, dropping the crossbow to cradle her head in his hands. Her throat had been torn but there did not appear to be any other wounds. Whatever the demon had done, she had not realized what it was enough to fight back. Dracula's laughter echoed within the room, the demon's mirth cutting through Abraham's grief in an instant. Fury, hot and boiling, took hold. 

"It seemed she was more interested in things that should have been better for her to not know," the creature cackled, accent thick. "You should thank me! I've taken care of your problem. One of them, anyway. Now that meddlesome son of yours is a different story." 

Standing, Abraham pressed a hand to the side of Elizabeth's head, fighting tears at the loss of something so pure from the world. His free hand clenched, digging his nails into his palms. Focusing on that pain, Abraham turned and locked his eyes onto the creature's chest. Alucard stood tall, a grinning wraith of a beast. Leaning forward, the demon chuckled a low, dark sound, its eyes watching Abraham's every pained movement.

"She screamed for you, right before she died. A moment of clarity, her sanity restored. And then she was mine. In fact," the demon grinned, tilting his head. "She's still screaming for you, deep inside me." The vampire tilted his head to the side. "Bram," the voice of his wife echoed from the monster's fanged maw. "Why did you leave me?" The voice cried, sobbing within the depths of hell. "How could you?"

Abraham did not answer, drawing a small caliber pistol from the inside of his coat. This time, he wanted the bullets to lodge inside the vampire and stick there, wedged within muscle and bone to poison the creature from the inside. It was time to put the demon down, just as his allies had begged him to do so long ago.

"Scream," he replied, his voice straining from rage. 

Three shots in quick succession lodged themselves into the vampire's chest. Dracula screamed, dropping to its knees and clawing at its chest to reach the bullets nestled against his heart. Two more shots buried into the demon's skull, steam rising from the wounds as Dracula collapsed, silent at last. Abraham did not waste any time, dropping his pistol and entering the circle with a white oak stake and small hammer from his belt. 

Crouching beside the twitching creature, Abraham poised the stake over its chest and let the first blow fall. No sound rose from the beast, but the body thrashed and arched from the floor. Abraham let the blows fall, forcing the stake through its chest until the tip exited its back and the body quivered minutely. 

He did not notice Seward entering the room, and shook the man off, ignoring any words that his old friend shouted. Abraham removed the final item he had gathered, a hatchet, from the loop on his belt, and swiftly removed the creature's head. Only then, did he stumble back to the limp, broken form of his wife and gather her into his arms.


	9. Compulsions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was unfinished. However because I'm no longer updating or writing on this story I decided to include it in this posting of the story.   
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

"How can an act done under compulsion have any moral element in it, seeing that what is moral is the free act of an intelligent being?"   
~ Auberon Herbert

OoOoO

Year: April 1894

"Bram?"

The last swallow of whisky from his glass left a burning trail along his throat, pooling heat into his stomach. Footsteps approached from behind, though Abraham did not turn. He kept his gaze on the window, watching as clouds moved in lazy patterns across the sky. It had been six months since Elizabeth had fallen from her horse and broken her neck, so was the story told to the police and public. Six months since he had opened the door and saw the demon glow from the eyes of her ghoul. Six months since he had ended the demon's life and left it to rot behind a sealed iron door. 

"You need to get some rest, Bram," Seward quietly stated as he approached. "Please. God knows you need it now, more than ever." 

"Arthur told me of her concerns, and I brushed them off," Abraham commented, leaning back in his chair and placing the glass to the side. "I did not even fathom she would find the spare key."

Seward settled himself in a chair near his friend. "You can't keep blaming yourself, Bram," he replied. "These forces were beyond your control."

"I brought that thing here, invited a demon in my home and hoped to keep it as some kind of study subject. Arthur blames himself, thinks somehow he is at fault for his mother's demise. I can sit here and think of how I could have handled the situation better, kept it under tighter locks, found some way to keep it completely secluded from any sort of prying eyes." Shaking his head, Abraham chuckled, running a finger idly over the scar which tore its way over his left eye. "Dracula had already proven he could escape, and I ignored all the warnings."

Seward was quiet for several moments, lamenting his friend's pain but unable to offer much condolence to those wounds. It was true. Had Abraham listened to the warnings then his wife would still be alive.

"The Harker's have written," he stated absently. "Apparently Mina's delusions have ended. Godalming is still not doing well, at least the last time I checked in on him. I detected a little bit of improvement, but not much."

"It would have been such an achievement, to have that creature under control," Abraham mumbled, clearly not paying much attention to his friend. "Can you imagine what we could have accomplished? With the vampire as a weapon, we could devastate those monsters of the night which prey upon man."

Shaking his head, Seward stood, stepping around the chair to rest a hand on Abraham's shoulder. "There's no use dwelling in the past, Bram. The beast is dead, and it is time for us to move on. Grieve for your wife, but please do not lose yourself in these longings for what could have been. That will surely send you in a spiral for madness." 

With a long sigh, Abraham nodded, cantering his head to look up at his friend with a weak smile. "So it is. I will need to get back to work, I suppose. I still have a job to do," he mused, turning to glance out the window a final time before pushing himself to his feet. 

OoOoO

The whispers had returned, calling his name over and over as if some sort of chant. Arthur Holmwood gripped at the sides of his skull, tossing among the damp sheets of his bed. It was Lucy's voice, whispering his name in a lover's call. He could only imagine this was how demons were summoned, this maddening call of their name until there was no choice but to answer. 

With a sob, Arthur gripped at the sheets and threw them to the side, his bare feet slapping onto the cold, wooden floor. He had no choice, he had to go to her. It was the same nearly every night. Some nights he was able to escape the call, with heavy medication provided by Seward. 

Well aware of what would happen were he to try fighting the whispers of his lost love, Arthur pulled open a draw to a stand near hid bed and fumbled with a small bottle. He was shaking hard enough to nearly drop the entire bottle, and somehow managed to get one of the small pills into his palm. Swallowing it without using the glass of water waiting for just this purpose. 

Several minutes ticked by, the whispers morning his choice to ignore them and fight to keep them at bay, when finally they began to quiet. 

OoOoO

He had avoided his study since that night, dreading to confront his failure. Abraham unlocked the room, stepping inside and shivering in the dusty chill. 

"All that work, for nothing," Abraham growled under his breath, sweeping an arm over his desk to brush piles of books and loose pages into the floor. "What a waste."

Dropping into a chair, Abraham pinched his sinuses, sighing deeply. The spare key had been missing, and still not located. Elizabeth did not have it on her body, which meant she either dropped it somewhere in the lower levels or it was located on Dracula's body.

The loss of his wife had been a crippling blow to his psyche. Abraham had thought on the events of that night over and over, and he could not understand why the Count had killed his wife and created a ghoul instead of just holding her hostage. Surely that would have been a much better plan. Perhaps the creature had been too starved to think clearly, or it had been so savage in its thirst for revenge that it had tossed out any other idea but to wound him with her death. 

Cursing under his breath, Abraham leaned his head back, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Was he truly a failure? Did Elizabeth's death make him a failure, or did his choosing to dispose of the creature and give up on his plans make him a failure? What upset him the most, her loss or his frustration at the creature's will? 

\--

Abraham stepped over the body, holding his lamp high as he tilted his head and looked over the withered corpse. Nearly two feet to the side rested the head, covered in white hair, and a slacked jaw displaying short, blunted fangs on the lower jaw. Crouching, he set the lamp to the side, and turned to the body.

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy writing/roleplaying? Enjoy Hellsing and Dracula fandoms? If you happen to be on Discord and would like to hang out and write/roleplay with others who enjoy the fandoms, let me know. I own and manage a server dedicated to exactly that! If you're interested, message me and I can share an invite link with you.


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